


The Lonely Monsters Are Getting Lonelier

by booogiepop



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/F, Gen, POV Third Person, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booogiepop/pseuds/booogiepop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pair of ghosts live in the dark with only themselves for company. The Old Queen of Monsters waits alone in her ruined home for seven human children to pass. Some make it to Muffet's parlour. Some do not. The Queen of Spiders writes in her diary, and becomes lonelier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the days following the deaths of the royal children, Asriel and Chara, the Underground was in turmoil. The two were much more than simply the children of the King and Queen for the monsters of the Underground – they were symbols, beacons of hope for those who wanted to believe that humans and monsters might live together on the surface once more. It was those who cherished this dream the closest who mourned the loudest in the streets.

No one knew that the spiders were in the greatest disarray of all. Few paid attention to them at all, let alone were aware that their beloved queen, Poppet, had given up her soul at last, succeeded by her only daughter. The spiders grieved in secret. That was their way. No one cared for the spiders, after all. Seen by the rest of monsterkind as not quite monster, yet not quite animal, spiders were frequently met with suspicion at best, and at times, even contempt. 

Poppet was an exception. She was a true monster, the Boss Monster of the spiders. She was one of the oldest beings in the Underground, much older than the King and Queen. They had always treated her graciously, and listened carefully when she spoke with the wisdom only someone of her years could have. She was certainly a capable leader and ambassador of the spiders. None of them knew how long they would have survived without one such as her.

 _And now she’s gone,_ thought Muffet. _And I am Queen of the Spiders._

Though Muffet was quite young, her mother, in anticipation of her death, had been teaching her of what to do when at last the time came to step forward. 

“Above all,” she had said, “never forget that while you are a Queen, you are a spider first of all. You must listen to each and every spider, and leave not one behind. Because in this world, if you don’t, no one else will.”

Muffet had listened dutifully, of course. But it had felt as though her robust mother would live forever. She had not once imagined that she would need to wear her crown so soon.

She felt overwhelmed under the weight of her new responsibility. She had been told to seek aid from the royal family if it came to that, but they were caught up in their own grief, and were accepting no visitors to the castle. And besides, she was afraid that her name would not invoke the same respect that Poppet had. Why should they grant an audience to a tiny fledgling queen, who barely had a scrap of the knowledge or power of her mother?

No. At the end of it, the spiders had no one but each other. That was how it had always been. And so they all gathered, and grieved for their queen in silence.  
Muffet spoke to every one of them. She had feared she wouldn’t live up to their expectations. She apologised for being so young, so inexperienced, and promised to do her best for them. And each spider crawled over her and whispered in her ear in their tiny, silent language. 

_We will follow you to the end,_ they had said. _You will do your mother proud._

That was then. Now, Muffet sat alone at her wooden desk, exhausted. She had tended to her subjects and had mourned her mother. She was finally alone.

She took a crisp new book from one of the drawers. It was a large, purple diary, fresh and unopened. Poppet had told her that she had started a diary when she began her reign. Muffet wanted to continue the tradition. 

_Where to begin?_ She thought.

Two hands drummed a rhythm on the desk. One hand twirled a quill. A fourth absentmindedly stroked the spine of her diary, opened to the first page.

A spider crawled encouragingly up her arm and settled on her shoulder. She set her quill to paper.

 _Despite the lack of understanding that still surrounds their kind,_ wrote Muffet, _it is common knowledge that ghosts are able to enter and leave the Underground at will. This is partly due to humanity’s ineptitude with magic, and partly due to their underestimating monsterkind as a whole, let alone its lesser-known races. The greatest human magicians may cast spells, and seal exits, but there’s no magic they have at their disposal able to block an incorporeal form, or close every potential escape for a being capable of indefinite flight._

 _Not only are ghosts among the rarest of monsters, they are also the most furtive. According to my mother, there are few among us who have seen a ghost with their own eyes since the War._ Muffet paused. No one knew how ghosts passed on, or where they went to die, or even if they could. If her mother knew, she hadn’t told her. However, she didn’t write this down. So she continued to write. _This, of course, has its reasons too. Why shouldn’t ghosts keep to themselves, when the needs of food and shelter that other monsters must supply for is taken care of by their incorporeal nature? Why should they show themselves among us when they have been so mythologised by their fellow monsters that they are treated with fear?_

Muffet had began awkwardly, but the words now flowed from her quill with greater speed and confidence, as she penned down the thoughts she hadn’t realised she had had.

_However,_ she continued, _if there is a race understood even more poorly than ghosts, then it is the spiders. All but the Boss Monsters among us are so small that our class as monsters, and as citizens, is frequently questioned. Most of us are incapable of learning the speech that the rest of monsterkind uses, and they certainly make no attempts to learn ours. No one would see any worth in learning the speech of spiders, and it is all the more foolish of them, for we spiders are privy to countless dark and quiet secrets. No one is closer to the earth than us, and we understand how to interpret its silence. Of course, we would never share our secret knowledge with those who treat us this way. Let them think of us as knowing nothing worth learning. It’s quite possible that if other races were willing to cooperate with us, we might have broken the Barrier by now._

_It is common knowledge that ghosts are able to enter and leave the Underground at will, but much less so that this is a trait we spiders share. Spiders may be weak, but we possess a unique innate magic. I do not fully understand it myself. It may be that the earth is aware we listen to her, and speaks to us in return – directing us to the nooks and gaps that exist in the ceiling of our underground world that went unnoticed by the humans. We cannot simply pass through solid rock as our cousins, the ghosts, can, but we have our ways. The earth has granted us the power to travel between the two worlds that humankind split her into – a power she grants no other creature._

_I have always felt a certain kinship between we spiders and the ghosts. My mother always taught me that they are a hidden ally that we must not forget. We are both poorly understood by both monsters and humans. We both live in secrecy away from those who would shun us; we each keep to our own, and follow our own customs, our own traditions. And we are both the only races capable of leaving the Underground while the Barrier remains closed._

_I hope that during my time as queen, I will be able to forge an alliance – and a friendship – with the ghosts. That is what my mother would have wanted. I hope that the Underground will know that although Poppet has passed, the spiders remain proud, and able._

_Listen to me ramble on, my dear diary. It’s growing late, and tomorrow promises to be a busy day. There is no time to waste. I must thank you for indulging me. Ahuhuhu!_

_Until next time,  
Muffet~_


	2. Chapter 2

Muffet was exhausted. The spiders had been working furiously all day – spinning webs, digging holes for keeping themselves warm, trying to find food. The sun was about to rise in the Overworld, and the Underground’s magic cycle of day and night would follow suit. Most spiders were sleeping in their makeshift homes. The Queen of Spiders sat awake at her little desk, her diary before her and a pot of tea at her side. She had thinking to do.

_My dear diary,_

_It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? I had hoped to be able to write an entry regularly, but I’ve barely had a moment to myself since I began to write here. I had tried so hard to be hopeful, for myself and for the rest of the spiders, but things are very far from going back to normal. We’ve made Snowdin Forest our temporary home, but we cannot stay here long. The cool is currently tolerable, but the snows will be here before long, and that will mean the end of us all. Mother told me this place was named for its remarkable snowy season which grows longer and colder with every year. I’ll need to think of a solution soon._

Muffet paused, hoping to have something encouraging to write next, and reached for her teacup. A young spider was relaxing in the warm tea as if it were a bath. Muffet smiled and gently scooped him up and placed him in her hair. Before long, though, she sighed and continued to write.

_It’s quickly becoming more and more apparent that I am ill-suited to the job of leading the spiders. We’ve never stayed in one place for long. Mother told me that the spiders haven’t had a permanent home since she was a child. But she was always here to lead us; she always knew which direction to head, when to set up camp, and when to keep moving. She must have taken us here with somewhere in mind. But I have no idea of where to go. If only I had asked…_

_I can’t let the rest of the spiders know this, though. They put their trust in me, and I’m the only hope we have. I need to appear to be a confident leader. If I doubt myself, every spider in the colony will know before tomorrow. And that would be disastrous in as dark a time as this._

_I am loathe to consider this, dearie, but if I truly have not found us a more permanent home by the time the snow is nearly falling, I’ll need to approach the monsters of Snowdin Village for help. I refuse to let my pride cause the deaths of any spiders. This, however, is a course of action I will only take if it really is the last hope. Spiders might be greeted with warmer receptions in small settlements than in busy cities, but few would be happy to have spiders living in their home nonetheless. It is a cruel fate we spiders have been dealt indeed if our options are to freeze to death in a snowy forest, or to perish being knocking on doors and being turned away. But I refuse to let it come to that._

She went to drink from her cup and realised it was empty. She lifted the teapot, tipping it towards her cup… and continued to tip, waiting for tea to pour. A few more spiders sleepily tumbled out, dangling from the spout on some strands of web.

Muffet sighed. 

“I really do drink too much tea, don’t I, dearies?”

The spiders giggled silently and lowered themselves onto Muffet’s hand. They crawled up her arm and disappeared into her hair. Muffet gave them a moment to get comfortable before turning the page of her diary, wishing she didn’t drink quite so quickly.

_I suppose I should tell you how the rest of the realm is going, too. We are quite isolated here in the forest, but there is little news that can escape spiders if we wish to hear it. The Underground remains in mourning. Everyone is clamouring for the King and Queen to do something – to do anything. A speech, a new policy, some encouraging words. But they’ve been completely silent. They haven’t even been walking among the people – I hear they’ve been locked up in their castle since they first released the news._

_To tell you the truth, diary, I think it’s shameful. Their people need them in this time of strife, and they do not ask for much. Even simply showing themselves would do wonders, I am sure. But instead they’ve locked themselves away with their grief. Did I choose to neglect my duties when Poppet died? Did the spiders wallow in misery when they lost their queen, who was like a grandmother to them all? No. We picked each other up, and here we are. Mother had always known the King was soft. But she had seemed to think more highly of Queen Toriel. Could she have been wrong to do so? I am equally unimpressed with the entire royal family. They are certainly no King and Queen to the spiders._

_It’s more important that I focus on our own problems, though. Naturally, we are used to living frugally, but there’s no telling how long the supplies we have will last for. And for the same reason that we’ll soon be moving on, insects to eat are scarce in these cold woods. Oh, what I’d do to eat a fresh croissant, dear diary~! But we’ve not much to cook with. And though we all miss baking, it is hardly the most pressing of our concerns. We usually go into town to buy our ingredients, but it was just our misfortune that we should need to restock just as the Underground was beset by tragedy. Locals are hostile towards us at the best of times, and I’d rather not approach them until things are a little calmer. And they come up with such rumours about our eating habits, too! In particular, spiders have long suffered the myth that we engage in cannibalism. Naturally, this is preposterous, as we only consume the exoskeletons we leave behind when we shed or turn to dust. To do otherwise would be unthinkably wasteful. And besides, there’s nothing like spider skin to lift up a batch of donuts. I swear, dear diary, the Underground knows nothing about cooking. Ahuhu~!_

_I had hoped that this isolated forest would be an ideal spot for meeting a ghost. But though my spiders and I have been searching, we haven’t found a single one. It could be that they really do live here, and only refuse to show themselves to us. We’d never know if that was the case. My spiders come before chasing ghosts, however, and I’ll need to give up on this endeavour if it really does seem to be an aimless hunt. And yet I cannot help but wonder, where could they be…?_

Muffet looked at the blank space filling the rest of the page. She didn’t feel like signing off in her usual cheery way. Instead, she quietly closed her diary and sat back in her chair, listened to the barely audible snores of the spiders in her hair, and waited for sleep to take her.


	3. Chapter 3

Muffet dreamed profusely that day. There had been strange music, and purple halls, and a shining being as white as a sheet. She had been trying to chase it, stumbling over tree roots and calling for it to stop, but somehow it grew further and further away without moving. It glowed like moonlight through dark, leafless branches just out of her reach. She stretched up to touch it, wanting to feel its light for just a moment, but her hand grasped at nothing and she tumbled down a hill of soft red leaves. She laughed breathlessly in exhilaration.

Muffet awoke still giggling. The sun was beginning to set, and spiders were stirring. Soon, it would be time to rise. 

Soon, but not quite. Muffet stood and stretched her limbs, and made her way to her small writing space, where she opened her diary.

_I know it’s unusual to write in you so early in the night, dearie, but I feel oddly compelled this evening, so you must forgive me~ I had a wonderful dream today, and I do so wish I could write it down. But I’ve forgotten it all. All I remember is that it was a good dream. I have a lovely feeling about tonight~!_

_But as I write, dear diary, I cannot help but feel my mood dampen somewhat. There’s a bitterness in the air, and the wind feels almost metallic when it blows. Since I was a little spiderling, these signs have always filled me with a certain wordless dread. It will most likely snow within days. I’ll give the word to begin packing up our encampment; there is nothing else for it. Unless I think of a plan tonight, we’ll need to head towards the village and a very uncertain future._

_But, strangely, I don’t feel nervous. My good mood may have sobered, but I still feel quite calm and light. There might be another development after all._

As the moon rose, the spiders worked quickly to pack up whatever few belongings they had. Muffet checked the webs scattered about the forest and collected any insects she found. Eventually, the time came to retrieve her desk. She sighed. It was small, and its hinged legs could fold underneath it, making it relatively easy to transport, but she was not looking forward to carrying it over a long distance nonetheless. She ran a hand across its worn surface and thought about how she’d watched her mother write at it every night. She could not bear to part with the antique desk. Still, she travelled as lightly as she could, and knew its drawers had only her diary, some spare paper, and the apparatus necessary for writing.

It was for this reason that Muffet jumped when her little desk gave a sudden shake, its largest drawer rattling in its place.

Despite her initial jump, Muffet was not overly confused. Spiders often liked to explore each other’s things, after all, and rarely bothered with the concept of personal space. Slowly, she pulled the drawer open, and caught the glitter of tiny legs as they scuttled behind a sheaf of paper.

Such small legs! The spider could not have been any larger than her littlest finger, and no older than a newborn spiderling.

“How long have you been in there, little one?” she asked, kindly. “Do come out.”

The spider didn’t respond, which worried Muffet.

“Are you alright, dearie?”

She gave the paper a little tug out of the way, and gasped.

The creature hiding in her desk certainly wasn’t a spider. It was surrounded by shards of its own egg—it couldn’t have hatched long ago. The creature gave her a tired blink.

Muffet remembered something. A memory from long ago, when she was still almost a hatchling. She was playing in a web with her grandmother’s pet: a huge, majestic thing; shaped like a spider, but with a bulbous, striped body, reminiscent of a cupcake, and an enormous maw beneath two round eyes. He had obediently let Muffet climb around his body and roll between his teeth, laughing. He had belonged to a rare breed of beast; not quite spider, and not quite monster. She had not seen another of his kind since her grandmother had passed.

Until now. 

Muffet gazed at the tiny, stout thing squabbling in the wooden box. She had never realised that the great and regal cake-like beasts began so small or so undignified. She wondered how long the young girl had been waiting, tucked away in an unassuming little egg in her antique desk. Had Poppet known?

Carefully, she encouraged it onto her hand and placed it on the desk, marvelling at its strength.

_I wonder if she’s hungry._

Without looking away, Muffet pulled a struggling beetle from the coils of web at her side, and dangled it in front of the cupcake spider. It hissed in excitement before leaping into the air, snatching the beetle from her fingers and crunching it whole.

Muffet giggled. It was terribly cute. She fed it some more small insects in the same way. Eventually it grew calm, and scuttled up her arm to snuggle into the crook of her elbow, where it began to snuffle quietly in its sleep.

“You’re certainly louder than regular spiders, dearie,” Muffet murmured as she stroked the fuzz of her new pet’s back. Some of her subjects gathered around to watch. Muffet felt better than she had since her mother died. She had discovered a new, tiny life, of a species she had thought extinct. Poppet would be pleased, where ever she was.

Muffet spent the rest of the night talking and planning with the oldest spiders to decide on a course of action. A breakthrough was made, and at around midnight Muffet returned to her diary in high spirits. 

_It seems I was right to be hopeful after all, dearest diary. It’s been a strange and exciting night indeed. The spiders and I came up an excellent idea! I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before. To the west of these woods lies a network of empty ruins. I looked at some maps, and it seems that this is the first home monsterkind made when we were forced underground. If that’s the case, they will surely be almost totally deserted by now. That’s where we’ll live! It sounds almost too perfect. The ruins will be sheltered from the weather, and well insulated, meaning they should be warm enough for us all year. And they’re directly connected with the surface, meaning we can take short trips to the overworld, and we’ll have an abundance of food. This is the best piece of news we’ve had in a long while, and I’m so excited I could dance~!We’ll head towards there right away._

_And that’s not all that happened tonight! I can hardly believe it, but I found a hatchling Cupcake Spider living in the desk mother left me! I cannot help but wonder if she was aware it was sleeping there, or had even put the egg there herself. That’d be just her strange idea of a gift. But I’m ever so pleased! She’s the cutest thing. Her eyes go so wide when she spots something to eat! She’s ravenous for something so small. I wonder if she’ll grow to be as large as the beast I knew as a spiderling. That reminds me – I’ve decided to name her ‘Lovett’, after my grandmother._

_That’s all I can write now, I’m afraid. I need to pack you away so we can get moving towards the Ruins! I wonder if it really is time for us to find our first permanent home in generations. I’m excited to find out._

_When I next write, dear diary, I’ll be writing in our new home~_

_Muffet_


	4. Chapter 4

By the time the spiders reached the great door in the woods that marked the entrance of the once-royal city, the sky was a frosty grey, and a cold wind blew. Muffet had been sure that they would reach the Ruins in time, but was still greatly relieved to usher her subjects to safety. When Muffet, who entered last, heaved the stone door shut behind them, the sounds of weather were all but muted. The spiders shook themselves, and immediately began to spread across the cracked stone floor and walls; fear of the cold already forgotten as they joyously explored their new home.

Muffet was delighted at their inquisitiveness, at how readily they took to their surroundings. The Ruins seemed almost perfect. Admittedly, she supposed it could have been a little darker; they were filled with a low, gentle light, much dimmer than daylight, but not the midnight darkness in which spiders were most active. This was a small price to pay, however, as they could easily adjust.

And, at the very least, purple was _their_ colour.

On their first night in the Ruins, the spiders mostly explored, grateful to finally have a place to rest. They were mostly devoid of life, as Muffet had predicted. Only a handful of small monsters living simple lives preceded them, and they took the appearance of the spiders in stride. Even with their addition, there was more than enough room, and the Ruins remained empty and silent. The spiders spun webs, hunted for food, and made themselves at home. Her little Lovett hated travelling, it seemed; Muffet had no sooner set her down onto the floor than she eagerly scampered away.

On the day after, however, Muffet met someone she certainly did not expect.

The Ruins seemed to always be larger than she thought, and no matter how far she walked, there always seemed to be another corner to turn, a new room to explore. She poked her head through a doorway, and to her surprise, saw a white light in the next room. She saw a shapeless figure lying on the floor, so pale they appeared to glow. 

Muffet took a moment to process what she saw. She kicked her mind into overdrive, and her breath caught in her throat. They have to be a ghost. She became almost giddy with excitement.

…Until she realised the ghost still hadn’t noticed her. Indeed, it seemed to simply stare at the ceiling, facing slightly away from her. Muffet had no idea of what to do.

She started to panic. _I can’t just stand here. Do something, do something…_

She gave the tiniest, most polite cough she could manage. 

“E-hem.”

Immediately, the ghost disappeared into the stone.

“Wait!” she cried. “Please, come back!”

She felt almost ready to cry, and wanted to kick herself. _What was I thinking, scaring them off like that?_

She considered that they might still be present.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, truly. Will you please come back? I only wanted to say hello.”

Muffet waited with held breath. After a couple of heartbeats, the ghost poked their head up through the ground.

“You startled me,” they said. “I’m not used to anyone down here talking to me… I was so surprised, I lost my grip on the floor…”

They spoke slowly, and in a voice that felt somehow neither high nor low. Their face remained blank as they spoke.

“I’m ever so sorry,” said Muffet, greatly relieved. “Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Muffet, the Queen of the Spiders. We’ve just moved in, only the other day. It’s… a delight to meet you.”

The ghost edged out of the floor to a more comfortable height.

“Oh,” they said. “’Napstablook’.”

Muffet smiled and waited for them to continue.

“Um.” Napstablook was perfectly stationary.

Her smile became a little forced. _Please, say something… why won’t you say anything else?_

“This is kind of awkward,” they said.

“Oh, yes!” she laughed. She clapped two hands to her mouth when she realised what she had thoughtlessly agreed with, and flushed with embarrassment. “I – no, that isn’t what I meant! I meant to say, this isn’t awkward at all!”

 _I’m making it more awkward,_ she thought.

“Really?” asked Napstablook. They didn’t sound dubious, only… surprised.

“Absolutely, dearie. So, um…” _Think! Think!_ “Do you…” she looked around desperately. “…Live here?”

“No.” They paused, and Muffet was terrified that they had given another one-word answer before they continued, as though they had been carefully choosing whether to proceed or not. “I live in Waterfall, with my cousins.”

“Waterfall?” Muffet gasped. “Why, that’s a journey! What brings you down here, Napstablook?”

“Oh.” Muffet realised she would probably be hearing that a lot. “I guess it is… but ghosts can fly, so it isn’t as much of a deal, I guess. Anyway, Waterfall is nice, but there are a lot of monsters around, and it gets kind of difficult to think, sometimes… So I come here every once in a while… It’s nice when nobody’s around. Um. I didn’t mean that… in a rude way.”

“That – that’s quite alright, dearie. I’m sorry for interrupting your… thinking time. I could leave you alone, if you liked.”

“Oh, gee, that’s really nice of you… but you don’t need to bother, I was just on my way out. My cousins get kind of worried when I’m away for a while…” 

Muffet was disappointed. There had been a lot more she had hoped to talk about.

“Well – goodbye, Napstablook! I do hope we meet again.”

Napstablook floated past Muffet towards the wall, but paused and turned around.

“So… do you live here now?”

“That’s right.” 

“So I guess you’ll be staying here for a while.”

“We’ll certainly not be going anywhere soon.”

Napstablook hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then gave a tiny smile.

“I think my cousins will want to hear about you. We don’t usually talk to anyone outside the farm… when I get back, you could come to Waterfall with me for a visit… I mean, if you wanted to… they’d probably like you…”

Muffet could hardly believe her ears.

“Of course! That sounds – wonderful! I’d love to meet them!”

“Oh. Cool… well, I guess I’ll see you later… thanks for talking to me. Bye, Muffet.”

Napstablook passed through the wall. Muffet could faintly here them continue to talk.

“She was so nice… I’m so bad at saying goodbyes. Was I being rude? I probably messed it all up… wait… she can probably still hear me. Oh. Oh no…”

The voice faded away. 

Muffet giggled, and did a little tap dance. _How lovely!_

The other spiders wanted to know where she had been, and she couldn’t wait to tell them. They gathered around as she described her encounter with Napstablook. When she had finished, some asked questions – they hadn’t met a ghost before, either. 

Muffet answered them as best as she could, and realised just how little she knew about Napstablook. She had hoped to be able to talk more – but, then again, she’d been invited to visit them. She couldn’t be anything less than pleased with that. That day, she wrote in her diary perfectly content.

_Diary darling,_

_Wonderful news! We have beaten the snow. We reached the Ruins without incident, and are settling down. I can hardly describe what a relief it is to be surrounded by these huge stone walls in a season such as this. I will admit, dearie, I was afraid that there’d be something unanticipated, something wrong – that these ruins wouldn’t be all we expected them to be. But it’s near perfect. We’re having so much fun exploring. The temperature suits us far better than outdoors life did, and it’s nice and dark. And so quiet! In Snowdin Woods there was always something moving. Here, it’s quite lovely and still. Apart from us, of course~_

_Naturally, we’re not the only ones living here. It’s just as we thought – this city is deserted save for a handful of monsters. I expect they’re just like us; monsters who prefer peace and quiet to the noisiness of living in main areas. So far, they’ve ranged from friendly to shy. I think they saw right away that we’d give them no trouble so long as they gave us none. How pleasant to not have the worst assumed of us!_

_Maybe even best of all, there’s a delightful host of insect life to be found. I’m already excited at all the cooking possibilities! Ahuhu~_

_I’ve saved the most exciting news for last, dear diary. I met a ghost today! Their name is Napstablook, and they’re awfully cute. They don’t stay here, they only drop in every once in a while – I can hardly believe how lucky I was to catch them here on our second day. They’re terribly shy; I fear I nearly scared them off for good when I tried to introduce myself. I will admit it wasn’t the smoothest meeting I’ve had. Neither of us was very much for conversation, I’m afraid. But I think we learned a little bit about each other nonetheless. We didn’t have as much time to chat as I wished, but there is a bright side – they invited me along to visit them where they live! Apparently they live with their family on a farm in Waterfall. Quite a while away, but I’d love to meet their cousins and spend more time with Napstablook._

_It’s strange. Ever since I first got the idea into my head, I’ve been imagining my first encounter with a ghost. We’d discuss politics, and the prejudices we face. We’d share our experiences, and explore their uniqueness, and marvel at those we shared. I even daydreamed about swapping essays._

_I find myself not really caring about that at all. Instead, all I want is to find out more about Napstablook; what they like, what they don’t like, what their hobbies are. I want to meet their cousins and learn about them too. How strange that I wished for some sort of academic partner when the best I could have hoped for – and, through wonderful fortune, what I found – was a friend. Ah – that may have been a touch presumptuous of me. We’ve only met once, after all, and it was brief. But we’ve certainly not seen the last of each other. I do hope we become good friends. They’re a sweet thing… and what a lovely smile they have._

_It’s certainly been a delightful night, dear diary. Not much has happened since we arrived, but I feel exhausted. I hadn’t realised how tense I’d become living in the forest. I’m sure the other spiders are just as relieved to be able to truly relax. Poor darling Lovett was so cranky, needing to sit still in my bag as we travelled! She seems grateful to be able to finally stretch her little legs. I think she likes it here as much as everyone else. She must be ravenous! I mustn’t forget to feed her._

_I had better check up on her now, dear diary, so it’ll need to be goodbye for now~_

_Looking forward to more wonderful news,_

_Muffet~._


	5. Chapter 5

Muffet woke to spiders crawling frantically about her body and urgent voices whispering in her ears. She blinked in confusion, unable to make out what each voice was saying.

 _Hush, hush!_ She said. _One at a time, everyone, one at a time! What’s going on?_

The spiders fell silent for just a moment before resuming their agitated chattering.

_The Queen! The Queen has come to the Ruins!_

That woke her up.

_Queen Toriel? Are you sure?_

The spiders assured her that they were sure. They had tailed her highness to try to figure out what was going on – it was the Queen of Monsters, all right. They skittered around Muffet’s shoulders in a panic.

Muffet thought quickly.

_What else did you see? Do you know why?_

When a group of spiders are asked a question, they answer as much to each other as they do to the one asking. Muffet listened silently as the spiders argued with each other about what they had seen.

She learned that the Queen had seemed very upset – her eyes were bloodshot, as though she had been crying. The spiders didn’t know why. She had arrived with several wagons, which were being driven by royal guards. They looked like they had been filled with a combination of personal belongings, daily necessities, and furniture. It seemed that she intended to stay for a long time. 

The small convoy had been driven to one of the many abandoned homes that filled the Ruins. (Here, the spiders argued briefly, discussing just which home it had been. They decided that it was probably the royal family’s old home before they all left.) The guards had helped her unload her things, and departed with the wagons.

That was odd. Muffet asked them if they were certain that was what happened.

It was exactly what they had seen, they told her. The Queen had been left in front of the house, with her belongings strewn all around her.

Did this mean that she was alone?

She asked the spiders this, who told her it looked that way. They hadn’t heard anything from the guards to suggest that they were coming back.

Muffet forgot all about sleep. Deep in thought, she let the spiders continue running around her body in their excitement. She had been concerned – the royal family returning to the Ruins would likely be very bad news for the spiders. If they were moving back in, other monsters would follow for certain. But it hadn’t sounded like that was the case. If anything, it appeared that the Queen had begun to live in the Ruins by herself.

But why on earth would she do that?

Her worry was replaced by curiosity.

Why had she returned to the Ruins? Why hadn’t the King accompanied her? And why had she been crying?

 _What’s been happening in the realm that I don’t know about?_ Thought Muffet.

She wondered if it had to do with the tragedy of Asriel and Chara. That would provide some explanation… but still, why come alone?

It was no good. There were far too many questions, and there was too much at stake for Muffet to just leave it conjecture. She had her spiders to think about.

Besides, the mystery was rather intriguing. Between reclusive forest life, and moving into long-abandoned ruins, there hadn’t been much in the way of gossip.

After calming the spiders down, Muffet asked them if they’d like to come with her to investigate the matter personally. At once, they all agreed. They really did love their intrigue as much as she did.

Muffet briefly considered looking for Lovett. She usually took the creature with her wherever she went – but it was still quite early, and the grumpy little thing didn’t enjoy being woken up. She decided to leave her alone for now.

Quietly, Muffet set off with the group of spiders, asking them for directions, which they provided with minimal disagreements. Soon, they stopped her and told her that the house was just another turn away. Taking care to hide herself, Muffet peered around the corner, her spiders peeking over from her shoulders.

Toriel, the Queen of Monsters, stood alone with her arms rolled up to her sleeves, surrounded by crates and furniture. _Does she plan on moving all that inside by herself?_

The Queen began with a large, comfortable-looking armchair. She gripped each armrest and lifted it easily. Muscles rippled beneath her fur.

Muffet wouldn’t have minded her holding that pose a little longer, but the Queen carried the chair inside the house. There were sounds of bumping and scraping of wood on stone, and then she reappeared to carry something else inside.

A peculiar feeling was overtaking Muffet. Resentment towards the royal family had been growing of late; she had judged them harshly for their inaction in a time of need. How ready they had seemed to fall apart at a tragedy when Muffet’s own people, whose loss had been arguably greater, had stayed together to determinedly build a future.

All that was forgotten. Now, she only saw a grieving mother with sad eyes.

Several minutes passed. The spiders watched silently as the Queen’s belongings steadily disappeared inside. Bigger pieces of furniture and crates full of books remained — it would take all day to move on one’s own…

Muffet could barely believe what she was doing as she stepped out from her hiding place.

“Pardon me… your majesty?” 

The Queen gave a little jump of surprise, then turned to Muffet with a tired smile.

“Good afternoon. It’s just ‘Toriel’, now.”

“Oh. Excuse me… Toriel.” Muffet felt foolish. It felt strange to call the Queen by her first name. “Allow me to introduce myself.”

“You are Muffet, are you not?” said Toriel. “Princess of – no, I suppose you are Queen now, aren’t you? I am truly sorry for your loss. Poppet was a good friend.”

That was a surprise. Poppet had spoken to Muffet about Toriel often enough, but Muffet had been told nothing about being friends.

“Thank you,” Muffet said. “It has been difficult for us all. But – it is hard for you, too. I am sorry about your children.”

Toriel flinched, and a stab of guilt went through Muffet. But then Toriel gave another small smile. Muffet guessed she had simply run out of tears.

“It has been hard,” she said. “Very hard. May you never know the grief of losing children.”

A quiet moment passed between them. Muffet didn’t know what to say.

“Would you like any help?” she blurted.

Toriel seemed surprised. “Pardon?”

Muffet silently scolded herself. _How unbecoming!_

“Could you – use any assistance moving your things? Some look quite heavy.”

“That is very kind of you. Thank you, dear.”

Muffet nearly blushed. _Dear?_

To hide her face, she turned around and beckoned to the rest of the spiders, who were hiding in the shadows.

“Come out and help us, dearies!” she called.

Toriel smiled. She bent down and politely asked the spiders to help her with some of the smaller things. Strangers rarely greeted them this kindly, and they were very pleased. They set eagerly to work. Meanwhile, Toriel and Muffet held the dining table at each end, and began to lift.

Muffet’s mind was in a whirlwind. She had come here to investigate why the Queen was alone in the Ruins, and instead of finding anything out, was helping her move furniture! What an utterly strange turn her day had taken.

Moving everything inside was a relatively simple task, but Toriel then asked if she could help with unpacking, and of course Muffet hadn’t refused. It took almost two hours for everything to be unpacked and put away. To thank her, Toriel offered to make tea, which she gratefully accepted. Soon, they were all sitting around the dining table with three cups – a plain white mug for Toriel, a pretty teacup for Muffet, and a third cup for the smaller spiders to share. They made a fuss of sampling Toriel’s tea and telling Muffet that it was nothing like their own. Muffet told them not to be rude. Toriel didn’t understand the exchange, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway.

“Forgive me,” said Muffet in embarrassment. “We’re terribly fussy about our tea, aren’t we, dearies? But this is lovely, I assure you.”

“Then I’m especially glad that you like it,” smiled Toriel. 

They quietly enjoyed their tea for several minutes before she spoke again.

“This has all been quite a surprise,” she said. “I hadn’t expected to find any spiders here.”

“We were staying in the forest by Snowdin until we had move before the cold season. The Ruins were a natural choice because we thought they were empty. It gave us quite a shock to see you here, as well!” Muffet gave a little giggle.

“I can well imagine. You need not worry on that account, dear, it will be only me.”

Muffet set her teacup down uncomfortably.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” she still had to stop herself from saying ‘your majesty’. “Toriel, what does bring you down here? And – by yourself?”

“I knew you must be wondering about that,” sighed Toriel. “The truth is, Muffet, I came here of my own choice. I can bear being Queen no longer. And, after his actions, I can bear living with Asgore even less.”

“His… actions?” 

“Of course.” Toriel gave her a sharp look. “I am grieving as much as he, but what he has done, since – since we lost them, has been inexcusable.”

Now Muffet was well and truly confused. 

“Forgive me, Toriel, but what has he done?”

“You truly don’t know?” 

Muffet shook her head.

“Our loss cut us both deeply,” replied Toriel slowly. Her hands trembled slightly as they gripped her mug. “But Asgore… has allowed his weakness to take control of his kingdom. You are familiar with the laws of the Barrier, are you not? The power of the human soul is required to break it.”

Of course she knew. Muffet silently gestured for Toriel to continue.

“Asgore has declared war. A war for the destruction of humanity. And he intends to begin by murdering all humans who fall into the Underground – destroying them for their souls, until he has the powers of a god.”


	6. Chapter 6

Muffet shivered. Every spider was still, all their attention on Toriel.

_Asgore the Kind wishes to become a god?_

“It would take seven souls,” she continued, staring into her mug. “Asgore would shatter the barrier that keeps us trapped here. With that power, he would then seek to destroy every human living on the surface. He thinks he is leading us into a great new age of peace.” She laughed coldly. “Pathetic, is he not? Even in his great fury, he refuses to fight until he is almighty. If he truly wished to free us all, he would only need a single soul to cross the Barrier and gather six more souls himself. Countless people – humans and monsters alike – will die in bitter bloodshed should his war come to pass. But he would add his people suffering countless years of imprisonment into the bargain.”

She looked up and gave a wan smile. Muffet realised her tea had gone cold. 

“Listen to me go on,” said Toriel. “If you do not mind, I think I would rather not discuss this any further.”

“Oh, of course! My apologies, I think we’ve taken enough of your time. It is quite early for we spiders to be awake, I confess…”

“Is that so!” gasped Toriel. “Of course, how silly of me… it was doubly kind for you all to help me so much, then.”

“It was no trouble whatsoever.” Muffet hoped that didn’t sound insincere. She really had enjoyed the hours she spent with Toriel, despite her tiredness. “If you will excuse us, we will take our leave, now. The others may be awake, and wondering where we are.”

“I think I am quite ready for a rest, myself. Thank you very much for all your help today… And Muffet, you know you need not be so formal with me. I’m only Toriel.” Her eyes twinkled. “Why, the only queen in this room is you!”

Muffet blushed. “Goodness, I suppose you’re right.” She yawned daintily, covering her mouth with two hands. “Ah… pardon me. We really ought to be off. Thank you for the wonderful tea.”

“You are very welcome,” said Toriel. “It was kind of you to distract me today.”

“The pleasure was all ours. Isn’t that right, dearies?” 

The spiders jumped in agreement.

“I am very glad. Oh, and one more thing… I will need a few days to settle in, but afterwards, if you would like, please feel free to visit for a cup of tea. You may bring along whomever you wish.” She winked at the spiders, who tittered.

That came as a surprise – and an exciting one.

“We would love to! The others would certainly like to meet you, after all.”

Muffet stood. She was unwilling to let the moment end, but knew it was for the best. Toriel would surely appreciate some time to herself. “Come now, dears.”

The little spiders reluctantly trickled from the tabletop and onto Muffet’s arms and back. A couple of them waved farewell as she left.

Muffet did a little skip as she set off from Toriel’s home. She was terribly tired, but how worth it! Queen or not, a day ago she would never have believed she’d be having tea with Toriel. 

That wasn’t quite it, though. She had had a wonderful time… and was looking forward to seeing her again.

 _Do you suppose it was right to leave her alone there?_ asked a spider.

_I think she’ll be fine, dearie. She needed to be alone. I am more concerned about the future… she is terribly burdened. It will take a long time to heal._

A different spider scrambled onto her shoulder.

 _I never liked the king anyway,_ he said. 

Muffet giggled. _Who was it that just the other day commented on how comfortable for a nap his beard looked, Tippet?_

The spider huffed in embarrassment. 

As Muffet walked, her bubbling contentment simmered into something more thoughtful. She had learned an awful lot in just a few hours. She considered that above all, there were two things that only weeks ago monsterkind would have never even conceived possible:

One was that Asgore the Kind, Asgore the Merciful, would declare a war of spite, and militarise the realm.

The other was that his beloved Queen would estrange herself from him.

 _Things certainly are changing,_ Muffet thought.

The spiders who had stayed behind wanted to know where the returning party had been, of course, who were happy to scatter and spread the news. Muffet, however, wasn’t in the mood for much more talking. She sought out Lovett, who seemed grumpy at having been left alone.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” murmured Muffet, stroking her pet. “I only didn’t want to wake you… I won’t go off without you again. Besides, you must meet Toriel.”

Lovett seemed placated, and sighed in that way only a pet can do as she allowed Muffet to pick her up and begin walking to her nest.

Muffet gently set her down on her desk. “I would love a few more hours of rest,” she whispered, “but I don’t quite feel like going back to bed yet. Will you stay with me for a bit?”

She opened a desk drawer, which was filled with insects subdued with spider’s web, and selected a still-wriggling one; Muffet had quickly discovered that Lovett preferred her meals to move.

Then she opened her diary to the sound of contented eating.

_By my estimation, it is currently quite early in the evening, or perhaps the afternoon. In the absence of a watch or clock, it is quite difficult to tell the time here in the Ruins, where one lacks the use of moon and sun. But what better time-keeping piece is there than one’s own exhaustion! Today, I have found myself not awoken of my own accord, by events that I shall tell to you momentarily._

_As I write this, dear diary, Lovett is seated beside me on the desk, eating breakfast. She’s becoming quite the ravenous little thing, and while she seems sated with but three insects a day, I suspect that this will change sooner rather than later. I cannot help but think back to that royal beast who belonged to my grandmother. Even now, he would dwarf me in size, were he here. It’s difficult to imagine that little Lovett, who fits quite snugly in the palm of my hand, could one day reach his weight. Was he her father, or possibly even her grandfather? I suppose it’s too late for anyone to know for sure._

_Now for the main news, dear diary. Only hours ago, I was roused with urgency, for my spiders had dire news: ‘Queen’ Toriel had returned to the Ruins! Naturally, my poor heart nearly skipped a beat. We’d only just arrived, and now there was a chance we’d be run out! But it is not so. She had come alone, save for an escort of guards, who had brought her belongings and departed as soon as their job was done. This was the first time I had seen Toriel up close for many, many years. When last I saw her, she was barely more than a child, and I was a tiny spiderling holding my mother’s hand._

_To look upon her face today was ineffable. Such a weariness I had never seen. This was a woman who had experienced grief in its most extreme, and renounced all title and office. I felt all my prior distaste for her melt away in a heartbeat._

_As we watched her carry her belongings into her new – or, rather, old – home, the spiders and I were driven to greet her, and offer our help. How surreal it was, to help the old Queen move furniture!_

_It was an encounter unlike anything I could have expected. She referred to me by name before I had so much as introduced myself, and was very kind, despite her burdens. And quite beautiful. It was all a little overwhelming._

_Naturally I was very curious by this point. Fortunately, after we had helped her move her belongings, she invited us all inside for tea, and many of my questions were answered. I will try to clearly list what I have learned._

_First and foremost, Toriel is no longer Queen of the Underground. For you must have noticed I have been forgoing writing her usual title, dear diary. It’s true; she has relinquished her position – voluntarily. I would have hardly believed it had I not heard it from her myself._

_As for why, it turns out that she has divorced herself from King Asgore. This is another development that I would have found difficult to believe. No romance has been renowned through the kingdom for its sweetness as much as Toriel and Asgore’s, after all. Fortunately, too, might I add – one grew tired of hearing of their affections. Yet now they have irreconcilably separated, and Toriel comes to live alone in the Ruins._

_This was a future of Asgore’s own making. I am now hesitant to write in detail, as Toriel only briefly spoke to me of vastly complex events. Her reluctance is entirely understandable, of course, and I shall describe what I heard as best I can. It appears that the death of his children caused Asgore not only great grief, but great rage. He has decided to take the soul of any human who enters the Underground, and use them to break the Barrier. Following this, he will fight a war against the humans with the frightful power of their own souls, and kill them all._

_Toriel appears to be disgusted by this – or at least, by his methods. I find myself less passionately opposed. Their loss is only the latest in a long history of hardships the humans have inflicted upon us. War certainly does not sound unreasonable. And yet, I cannot help but be taken aback. Does he now wish he had murdered Chara once they had fallen down, to increase his own power, instead of raising them as his own? Or does he not regret the years he spent with them, yet plans on destroying all humans who follow – humans no different to his beloved child? This hypocrisy troubles me._

_It does me no good to dwell on it now. There is much to consider, and I am addled by sleeplessness. I shall have to say goodbye, diary dear. However, I would sooner close this entry on a light note than on such a dark subject, so I’ll add this: Toriel has expressed that after she’s properly made herself at home, we are welcome to visit her! Ordinarily, I might have interpreted this as no more than observing niceties, but I think she truly would like to see us again. It is surely lonely for her in this dark time. And I will gladly help her if I can._

_I certainly didn’t come to the Ruins expecting to make friends, yet I’ve done little else! First Napstablook, and now Toriel. How strange life is!_

_Yours tiredly,_

_(but contentedly)_

_Muffet~_


	7. Chapter 7

“Remember, I want you on your very best behaviour,” said Muffet. “If you make me regret bringing you, I’ll be terribly cross!”

Lovett only grumbled in response. She was looking very prim and proper, sitting on Muffet’s shoulder with a little ribbon tied around her. Muffet had done her best to make her look presentable.

Together, they stood outside Toriel’s home. She had elected not to bring any other spiders with her, this time. Toriel had asked to be given a few days to settle, but Muffet had waited almost a week before going to visit again. She had wanted to give it even more time, but her spiders had reminded her that responding too late was just as rude as inviting yourself too early. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Toriel, at all. She was just nervous, and wanted to make the right impression…

She raised a hand and gave the door three smart knocks. “Hello!” she said. “It’s me! I hope this is a good time.”

There was no response. She waited, and couldn’t hear anything inside the house.

“Toriel?” she called, and knocked again. “Are you there?”

She heard no footsteps, and no friendly voice. Indeed, the house seemed to be perfectly still.

“Perhaps she isn’t home?” she asked Lovett. “I suppose that must be it... Oh, what a pity. And we made you look so nice for her, too!” She was a little crestfallen. She’d been a little worried, but had been looking forward to seeing Toriel all the same.

Lovett had grown impatient. She scampered down Muffet’s body and onto the ground before running in a few circles.

“You don’t want to head home?” asked Muffet. “You must have been restless, sitting still all this time… why don’t we go for a walk? There’s no need to let this outing go to waste.”

Muffet smiled as she watched Lovett chase insects and clamber over rubble. She felt a little better.

After around half an hour of walking, she took her mind off her thoughts and looked around. She realised she hadn’t been here before.

“Where are we going, Lovett? We mustn’t get lost.”

But Lovett responded by moving faster. She seemed to have caught an interest in something, and rounded a corner without hesitation.

“Wait!”

Muffet chased her, lamenting internally. Her excitability was endearing, but she wished she wouldn’t run off like this… 

As Lovett charged forth, any creatures in her way either scattered or were barrelled into. A froggit croaked indignantly as it barely managed to hop out of the way. Muffet muttered apologies as she ran.

After many twists and turns, they came to a dark room, and Lovett stopped in her tracks. Muffet scooped her up at once.

“What have I told you about running away so suddenly?” she scolded. “Must you embarrass me like that? We are getting you a leash, young lady!”

The little spider seemed content. She curled up in Muffet’s arms.

Muffet realised she was looking into a room lit by a single ray of light, coming from above. Unlike most of the Ruins, mixed with the stone floor was a patchwork of dirt.

The next thing she noticed was Toriel kneeling in the light, wearing gardening gloves and holding a tin can of water. Even knelt down, she was taller than Muffet. She had heard the commotion, and turned around in surprise. She was crying. 

“Hello, Muffet,” she said, trying to smile. “What brings you here?”

 _I shouldn’t be here right now,_ thought Muffet.

“I’m sorry,” she said, mortified. “I thought I would visit you today, but you weren’t home.”

“That is alright,” said Toriel, wiping her eyes. “I am still not used to the idea of receiving visitors, and should have left a note. I come here to garden. Would you like to see?”

Praying that Lovett would decide to remain quiet, Muffet approached. Littered around Toriel were some small gardening tools. By her side were a couple of yellow flowers. Muffet recognised them.

“These are the dried flowers from your home,” she said.

“Some of them,” said Toriel quietly. “They’re buttercups. We had a garden of them, back home. Our children loved them.” She gave a watery chuckle. “I’ve just planted the seeds.”

She started to sob.

Muffet was speechless. She had no idea of what to do. She didn’t know whether to stay, or to leave her alone. Hesitantly, she put two small hands on Toriel’s arm, half expecting to be shrugged away. She wasn’t.

Nothing broke the silence save for Toriel’s quiet sobs. There was nothing to say.

Awkwardly, Muffet cast her eyes upwards. The beam of light came from a hole in the cavern ceiling far above. _Real sunshine,_ she thought.

She idly thought about how she could scale the walls and climb through the hole to the Overworld. She looked at Toriel – her face in her hands, kneeling in front of the freshly turned earth. Her fur glowed in the sunlight. It was an ethereal sight. Muffet’s heart felt full.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that for. But, eventually, Toriel lifted her hand, and gently touched it to Muffet’s.

“Thank you for this,” she whispered. She was still staring at the flowerbed. “I’m sorry. I think – I would like to be alone, now.”

“Of course,” murmured Muffet. She gave Toriel’s arm a squeeze before leaving her be.

***

She visited again the afternoon after next – again, by herself. This time, Toriel answered her at the door. She looked tired, but happy to see her. Muffet wondered if she was going to mention what had happened the other day, but she didn’t bring it up at all.

Of course Muffet had brought Lovett again. Toriel wasn’t sure what to make of the loud little spider, who ran around the house with seemingly limitless energy.

“She’s only exploring,” apologised Muffet. “She’s actually quite clean. I’m sorry, she hates being left behind…”

Toriel didn’t truly mind. “Just try to keep her out of the spare room, please,” she said.

Muffet had never been inside the ‘spare room’. It was the only room that they hadn’t touched while unpacking Toriel’s things. Still, everyone was allowed to have their mysteries. 

They chatted peacefully as they sat around the table. Both had cups of tea, and Toriel had given Lovett a biscuit, which she gnawed under Muffet’s chair.

“Please tell me about yourself,” said Toriel. “I would very much like to know more about you.”

Muffet spoke for a little of the spiders’ adventure, and how they made it to the Ruins. She reached the part where she found Lovett, and stretched below her chair to scratch her on the back.

“I enjoy writing,” she said. “I suppose it must be difficult not to, if you travel frequently. And I love cooking! Especially desserts. We all do, really, it’s a tradition of ours.”

“I am glad to hear that,” said Toriel. “I do, as well… though I am sure my baking cannot compare. I have heard much of spider cooking.”

Muffet grinned, flashing her fangs. “Only good things, I hope!”

“Of course, dear.” If there had been a flicker of hesitation, Muffet hadn’t noticed it. 

“Not that we’ve been able to do much cooking, lately,” she sighed. “We’ve been on the move for so long that we haven’t been able to do any shopping. And shops do not always serve us.”

Toriel gasped. “What do you mean?”

“Not everyone is as pleased to meet spiders as you have been, Toriel,” said Muffet with a smile she hoped wasn’t too grim. “Some seem to think of us as pests… or fear that we’ll steal from them.”

“That is terrible! If I were to catch a shopkeeper doing that, they would lose their business.”

Muffet laughed. “And I appreciate it. But at least we’re here now… not that we could buy ingredients here, either.”

“Would you like to use my kitchen?” asked Toriel. “I find cooking with someone rather fun. And I have plenty of ingredients! I would love to try your cooking.”

“Really?” Muffet swung her legs beneath her in enthusiasm. “That would be marvellous! We should make a day of it… The others will be so excited! If you wouldn’t mind a house full of us.”

“Of course not. I meant it when I said I’d like to meet you all! Would you be able to come again tomorrow? I will make all the necessary preparations. What would you like to make?”

***

_Dear diary,  
One often begins a journal entry by describing how they feel, do they not? The idiom ‘with a heavy heart’ comes to mind, yet (even aside from being dreadfully cliché) it is not fully suitable to my needs; to my mind, it bears an association with sorrow, despair, or regret. I would sooner use the phrase to describe the natural reaction to being overwhelmed by poignant beauty. Or, to put it another way, simply to refer to a not necessarily negative fullness of emotion. Unfortunately, it is the best and briefest choice of words that currently fits my mood, and so with this caveat in mind I will recommence my entry._

_Dear diary, it is with a heavy heart that I pen these words. Today, I made good on my promise to visit Toriel again. I brought Lovett with me, too. She looked like such a darling after I had tidied her up and given her a little ribbon! She was indulgent enough to not put up a fuss, bless her. But when we reached Toriel’s house, there was nobody there, so we went for a walk instead. By some stroke of fate, we crossed paths with her, but I almost wish we had not. When we found her, she was planting flowers in a secluded room directly connected to the surface, and I fear we interrupted a deeply private moment. She told me that the flowers had been a favourite of her children, and wept for a long time. I do not think I will ever forget how she looked, sitting among golden flowers in that natural light which graces these halls so sparsely. It was enough to make my heart ache, and continues to be – yet it was also a beautiful scene, in a way. I do not think she minded the interruption terribly, but even so, I believe she would rather be left alone when she’s with her flowers, in the future._

_I think I will try her house again tomorrow. I would rather she not be alone too long in as troubled a time as this._

_Muffet~_

***

_Dear diary,_

_I lied. I didn’t visit ‘tomorrow’ at all. I waited an extra day. I know there wasn’t truly a reason to have delayed, but it occurred to me that Toriel might be embarrassed after having been seen so vulnerable. It was a shameful thought – she is surely not that kind of person. But perhaps I am overthinking things – she made no remark on it and seemed grateful to have company._

_I decided to bring Lovett again. Toriel hadn’t been able to properly meet her the other day, after all. She didn’t quite know what to do with her, at first! Little Lovett was very excited to have a new place to explore. But I think they got along well, in the end – or at least once Toriel had given her a treat~_

_It was a nice, peaceful evening. We drank tea and tried to get to know each other better. I told her a little more about how it was we came to find ourselves in the Ruins, and she appeared to listen intently. It was pleasant to share our story with someone other than a book._

_She said there ‘wasn’t much to say’ about herself, and seemed to prefer listening. I am afraid she does not think herself very interesting. I wish there was a way to tell her this isn’t so!_

_By happy coincidence, I mentioned my love for cooking, and she revealed her own. In the end, she invited us all to cook together! How exciting! It feels like it has been a very long time since we’ve cooked in a proper kitchen. Everyone else was very happy to hear this news, too! I wonder what they’d like to bake._

_This does raise the question of what on earth I’ll do with Lovett, though. Leaving her behind is out of the question, but I can’t have an energetic little muffin running about a busy kitchen with free reign. I just know she’d make a mess! I wonder if she’ll tolerate being leashed… If things are looking dire, I’ll have to distract her with treats. Such a spoilt spider!_

_Our cooking date is tomorrow afternoon. I think Toriel has figured out we prefer to keep our outings as close to nighttime as possible. I’m grateful, of course, but I do hope she’s not going too out of her way for me…_

_Yours,_

_Muffet~_

***

_My dear diary,_

_We’ve just come home from an afternoon of baking with Toriel. What a wonderful day it has been! I hadn’t seen a kitchen crawling with spiders in a very long time, and it was truly a gladdening sight. I was worried she would be a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of us, but she held her composure as well as before. Everyone was completely smitten with her, of course, and left her side with great reluctance. I’m afraid they might have a new favourite! Teehee~_

_We made so much! The rest of the spiders decided they wanted to bake spider brownies. I think they wanted to impress Toriel with a specialty of ours, the dears. Though doubtless more than a little mischief played a part as well: I caught them wondering aloud if she would be able to guess the secret ingredient. I’ll get back to that later._

_I , instead, chose to help Toriel with her favourite pie – cinnamon and butterscotch. How delightful! She confessed to be quite prone to ‘stress baking’, and told us she was glad to have a happy reason to make her favourite again._

_I must reiterate, dear diary, that it’s marvellous to see spiders in a kitchen! I don’t believe I could ever grow tired of the sight. Watching them balance cups of flour on their backs and pass tasting spoons between them would help anyone forget their troubles. I’ve always thought it’s like seeing poetry in motion. Toriel remarked that it resembles a synchronised dance. We all rather liked that!_

_Lovett supervised us as we worked. We needed to give the poor dear a leash in the end – cooking is delicate work, especially when spiders are involved, after all. She didn’t like that! But something to eat was enough to make her forget all about it. Sometimes I think food is all she ever thinks about! But it was good to have her with us._

_I think we all had a lot of fun. Toriel seemed happy. I tried to talk to the other spiders using common speech for her benefit – just so things don’t get too quiet. I think she liked all the company. And as she talked us through her cinnamon and butterscotch pie, I remembered how Poppet used to teach me how to bake. It was lovely._

_Everyone loved the pie, of course. It wasn’t like anything we had baked before. I gave a tiny slice to Lovett, and she seemed to like it, too, though I doubt her tastes are too discerning! Toriel, the expert, was pleased with it, and that was enough for me. I thought it had a very comforting taste, somehow. Though I think it could have used a few spiders~_

_The brownies were a nostalgic success, too. Toriel liked them, and commented on their interesting crunch, and almost nutty flavour. She made the most exquisite expression when I told her that the responsible ingredient was spider! The poor girl looked quite scandalised, even when I explained that we only cook with discarded exoskeletons. She laughed it off in the end, though, and admitted that it was a clever way to avoid wastefulness! (However, she did request that we never put spiders in pie crust without letting her know.)_

_It was a fabulous time, and we’re all quite exhausted and happy. I don’t know if I feel like dancing, or like a long nap. Baking puts us all in a good mood! We left the excess brownies with Toriel as a gift, and she insisted we take the rest of the pie to finish._

_I think Toriel and I are becoming wonderful friends. I hope we continue to see each other as often as we have. I wonder when Napstablook will return to visit from their farm? I’d like them to meet her, one day._

_~Muffet!!!_


	8. Chapter 8

It was baking day. At the agreed time, Muffet had shown up at Toriel’s home, with her spiders following behind her and Lovett running in front. Toriel opened the front door immediately.

“Come in, everyone!” she smiled. “Good afternoon, Muffet. I have been waiting for you.”

Up the doorframe and along the walls the spiders ran as they streamed inside.

“Single file, please! No pushing!” admonished Muffet, grabbing Lovett before she could join them. She sighed. “I do apologise, Toriel, they’re a rambunctious lot when they’re excited.”

“The ruins are usually so still,” replied Toriel. “It is wonderful to be surrounded with so much energy for once.”

The spiders spread out the utensils and ingredients they had brought. Toriel had promised to provide for today, but still, they brought what they had. They chattered excitedly to each other.

Muffet approached Lovett with a makeshift leash of spun web as the monster backed into a corner, hissing. Muffet, however, was merciless, and soon had her tied to the leg of the table. “Sorry, dearie,” she said. “But we can’t have you running about and spilling things! Look, Toriel has something for you.”

Toriel offered Lovett a biscuit, the same as last time. The little spider quietened to crunch it up. Toriel gave her a gentle touch on the head, and then straightened up with a smile.

“Shall we?”

After donning her apron, Muffet tied her pigtails back into a more professional ponytail. To her surprise, Toriel did the same with her long ears. Muffet thought it was rather cute.

There was a slight problem: while the kitchen bench was perfect for Toriel’s height, Muffet found that it barely reached her chin. The spiders, who of course had no trouble reaching anything, loved it.

“If I hear one word out of any of you,” growled Muffet, “you’re being fed to Lovett.” She knew that they’d tease her to no end anyway. She heard a snorting noise, and whipped around. Toriel was covering her mouth.

“Would you like a stool, perhaps?” she asked mischievously.

Muffet decided that Toriel was likely the only person in the Underground whom she would tolerate such a comment from. She agreed, and glared at her spiders, daring them to make a peep. Toriel fetched her a heavy wooden stool. Muffet still needed to stand on the tips of her pointy boots, but at least the bench no longer came up to her chest.

She clapped her hands together. “Let’s cook!”

“While they are cooking their brownies, would you perhaps like to help me?” suggested Toriel. “I would like to bake a cinnamon and butterscotch pie. It is one of the first things I learned how to make, and I should like to show it to you.”

“That sounds marvellous. You’ll need to talk me through it, though.”

Muffet was happy to cook with Toriel. She hummed as she whirled around the kitchen, fetching flour and butter and balancing eggs, while the spiders ran in lines past her boots, not once bumping into each other. Toriel watched with open delight.

“What a useful lot to have in the kitchen you are!” she said.

Muffet giggled, and the spiders tittered.

When they weren’t chatting, a comfortable silence filled the kitchen. Muffet felt very light. It was so nice to cook with everyone again, and with Toriel, too. They slid the pie into the oven together, which Toriel filled with magical flames at a snap of her fingers. She closed her eyes when its sweet, heavy smell began to fill the room.

“This is not only the first thing I learned to cook,” she said. “It is also my favourite. I have always baked this pie on special occasions… when I smell it cooking, I cannot help but remember them all.” She smiled, a little sadly. Muffet knew that that last remark could go both ways. She was touched that Toriel had chosen to share something she found so personal with her.

Toriel made tea for them all while they let the pie and brownies cool. They all sat around the table, Toriel and Muffet chatting as the spiders relaxed around their cups. Cooking required much more running around for spiders than for larger monsters. Lovett had been untied, and she was enjoying stretching her legs. The enticing smells wafting from the kitchen had been driving her up the wall.

Muffet lifted her cup to her lips, but paused with a frown. “You mustn’t slurp your tea, Pewit!” she scolded. She gave the offending spider a stern tap, who hid contritely behind the cup they shared. Muffet doubted that Toriel had been able to hear them, but manners were manners, after all. Toriel, of course, had whispered to the spider that it was perfectly alright while pretending to hide from Muffet behind her hand.

Soon after finishing their tea, it was time to plate up. The spiders sliced the brownies into squares, with three of them carrying the oversized knife at once. Toriel and Muffet began slicing the pie.

Spiders might have enjoyed playing about, but they took serving guests very seriously. A couple of them carefully dusted their work with icing sugar and presented the plate to Toriel, carrying it on their backs. From the perspective of one standing up, it looked rather like a plate of brownies had sprouted tiny legs and had taken to running across the floor.

“They’d like you to try it first, dearie,” said Muffet. “They insist.”

The spiders struggled to maintain their composure when Toriel bit into a piece and looked confused at their crunch. It seemed that no matter how serious they were, there was no sparing their guests of some particular pranks. Muffet was going to have a word with them, later.

Sooner than anyone would have liked, it was time to depart. It was rather late, and naturally Toriel wasn’t as much one for the nighttime as the spiders were. After many farewells, they set off, Muffet carefully carrying most of a warm pie wrapped in a tea towel.

***

Muffet began to visit Toriel more often. There were some weeks where she would drop by every day, for anything from a quick hello to chatting for hours. Sometimes she would take some of the other spiders with her, but usually it was only herself, Toriel, and Lovett.

Toriel came to see her too, sometimes. The spiders would always see her coming from their webs and rush to inform Muffet. They would sit and talk, or go for walks together. Muffet showed her to her favourite places for catching insects to eat, and the next time she visited, Toriel brought a fine bug catching net. Muffet asked her why she had it, and Toriel had replied that it had belonged to one of her children.

She didn’t eat the insects she caught like Muffet did, of course, but Toriel found that she enjoyed bug catching. She would spend a moment watching it scuttle or buzz around the net, then let it go free (or give it to Muffet if it was one she fancied, who would pop it into her mouth behind a politely raised hand). Instead of cooking, they would occasionally schedule little bug catching outings. Those days were quite peaceful, spent in companionable silence.

Similarly, Toriel began to occasionally allow Muffet to accompany her when she went to garden. Muffet treasured those rare days, and committed them to memory. They tended to be the only times Toriel spoke of her children.

“Chara could be a difficult child,” she said once as they sat on the grass together, watching the flowers sway. “They were inseparable from their brother right from the beginning, but it took a long time for them to trust me. When they first started to live with us, I would leave a slice of pie by their room every night. They never answered the door, but the plate would always be empty by the morning.” She laughed gently, and her breath shook. 

That had been the first time Muffet had dared to take her hand. 

Months passed quietly. The spiders spread their webs. Lovett grew and grew, and became ravenous. Muffet baked, and hunted, and drank tea with Toriel. She began to forget to write in her diary.

Then, one day, while she was catching insects for Lovett, she was greeted with a familiar face.

“Napstablook!” she cried.

“Hi, Muffet,” came that same quiet voice she remembered. “I’m really sorry it’s been so long… things have been really busy at the farm lately.”

“That’s quite alright, Blooky. I’m just delighted to see you!”

She tried to give them a hug. It was somewhat like placing your hand on wet foam – if you pressed too hard, you would pass right through. Muffet didn’t get it quite right the first time, but Napstablook didn’t seem to mind.

“Gosh,” they murmured, their cheeks a light red.

Muffet insisted on dragging them home, despite their protesting that they didn’t want to intrude. Napstablook told her about how life had been on the farm. She learned that they kept snails, and all of their names. Napstablook told her a little about their cousins, too.

“They’re both really great,” they said. “You should meet them. One likes to sing, and one likes to dance. And I like to play music. We’re like a band.”

Muffet privately wondered exactly how a ghost might dance. This, of course, she kept to herself. 

When the conversation turned to her, she told Napstablook all about Toriel, and about how they cooked and went for walks together.

“And it’s all because we helped her move a few chairs!” she finished.

“That’s so nice,” said Napstablook. “I love it when stuff like that happens.”

“You simply must meet her! I’m certain you’d get along well.”

“Oh, no… I don’t think I could. I’m not very good with meeting new people. It’d be too sudden.”

“I understand perfectly, dearie. Another day, then.”

“For sure.” Napstablook gave a timid smile.

There was a pause. Napstablook seemed to be working up to something.

“Say,” they said. “I know that spiders can’t really go out in the cold… but winter’s over, and it’s not snowing outside anymore, so you could come with me to my place, if you wanted to hang out there…”

“I’d love to visit! But how long a journey is it? You said you lived in Waterfall, did you not?”

“It takes me about a week,” said Napstablook vaguely. “But I usually just fly here. If we catch the ferry at Snowdin, it would only take a day…”

Muffet hummed thoughtfully. “A week as the ghost flies would be quite a bit longer for me,” she said. “I suppose we’d have to hope for the river person to be there for us. If we must, we can spend a while waiting at an inn.”

“Yeah!” Napstablook bobbed up and down. “So, uh, when would you want to go? We could leave now, if you like.”

Muffet was feeling excited. She hadn’t been on a trip in a fairly long time. “We could set off right now,” she said. “I suppose I’ll have to leave Lovett here. I’ll let the spiders know.” She gasped. “I must tell Toriel that I’ll be going somewhere! Come with me, once I tell the others, I’ll just pop by her house and let her know. You don’t need to come out to see her if you’d rather not.”

Muffet led them to Toriel’s home. By now, it was as familiar as her own. She rapped loudly on the door. 

“Toriel, dear?” she called. “There’s something I must tell you!”

The house was silent. Toriel didn’t appear to be home. That generally meant that she was looking after her flowers, and, since she had gone alone, that she didn’t want to be disturbed.

“She’s off gardening,” she told Napstablook, who was poking their head cautiously out of a wall. “Oh, dear… Oh! I’ll leave a note.” She fished out a pencil and a scrap of paper from her pockets.

“Gardening?” repeated Napstablook. “Oh, yeah, I remember seeing some flowers, earlier…” they turned to face the opposite wall thoughtfully, as though they were peering through the solid rock. “That’s right… she’s with her friend. We’d better not bother her…”

“She prefers to be left alone to her garden, most of the time,” said Muffet. She quickly reread her note. 

_Dear Toriel,_  
_I will be out of the Ruins for a few days. I’m going with my friend from Waterfall to visit their home, and unfortunately they must leave right away, and there is no time to wait. Please give Lovett a fuss so she doesn’t fret! I will be back soon._  
_Muffet~_

“That will do.” She slid the note under the door, then jumped violently, bumping her head. "What did you just say?"

“I said, Toriel’s at the garden with her friend,” said Napstablook, startled. “Sorry, is that weird? I can’t actually see through walls, I can just sense where people are…”

“No, no,” interrupted Muffet. “That’s alright. But it’s impossible for someone to be with her. She’d have told me by now if there was anyone else in the Ruins she would show her flowerbed to.”

Napstablook looked at her curiously, then back to the wall. “Oh, you’re right,” they said, sounding a little embarrassed. “She really is alone… I must have got confused. Sorry…”

“Never mind that, Blooky! There was no harm done. Now, shall we be off?”

“Yeah, let’s go. I know a shortcut out of here, follow me…”

Napstablook’s shortcut was little more than a small gap in the Ruins wall where the bricks had fallen apart. Napstablook drifted through the wall absentmindedly, while Muffet wriggled her way through. Napstablook was right; the air may have been a little too brisk for her liking, but the temperature was more than tolerable, and there was little snow to be seen. She was glad to be wearing extra layers, though.

Their walk through the Snowdin woods was uneventful. Small monsters that ordinarily might have attacked passers-by scattered at the sight of a spider queen and a ghost travelling side by side. They talked comfortably, and pointed out pretty dew-laden tree branches to each other.

Monsters gave them curious looks as they passed through Snowdin. Muffet pulled Napstablook into a pastry shop for something to eat. A huge, rotund monster covered in yellow scales greeted them from behind the counter, his wings flaring in surprise.

“Well, bless me!” he said, squinting at the unlikely pair. “I’ve not seen you two ‘round here before!”

“We’re just passing through,” said Muffet politely. “We’re on our way to Waterfall.”

“Waterfall, eh? Well, here’s hoping that the old river person stops by. Hah hah hah!”

After asking Napstablook if they’d like something (they did not), Muffet bought a spinach roll. She munched on it as they continued to walk down the street. To her relief, the river person was indeed waiting on their boat for someone to ask for a ride. She hated staying at inns. 

“I am the river person,” they announced. “Would you care to join me?”

“Oh, we’d love to,” said Napstablook earnestly. “We’d like to go to Waterfall, please.”

The river person inclined their head. Muffet climbed aboard, and Napstablook floated beside her. The boat dislodged itself from its resting place, and began to float down the river. 

The trip took a few hours. Muffet and Napstablook talked quietly for a while, but eventually fell into silence, and listened to the rippling water. Muffet looked around at the changing scenery with interest. She hadn’t been to Waterfall in a long time.

At one point, the river person turned to look right at her.

“Tra la la,” they intoned. “Your unlucky colour is… red. Or was it orange? I get the two mixed up.”

“Thank you,” said Muffet.

The boat scraped against the dark stones of the Waterfall riverbank.

“Come back soon,” said the river person. Muffet promised that they would. Napstablook led the way through the darkness. Two tall houses loomed over them, side by side. Napstablook led them to the house on the left. Muffet could hear voices from inside.

“I’ve told my cousins that you might be coming,” said Napstablook. “We never get visitors apart from Shyren and her sister, so I think they’ll be pleased… are you ready?”

“I certainly am. I’m quite excited to meet them! But… Napstablook, what are their names?”

She asked too late, and the door was already swinging open. She had no choice but to follow Napstablook inside.

“Hi, guys,” they said. “We’re back.”

The two ghosts had fallen silent. They stared at Muffet owlishly.

“This is Muffet,” said Napstablook. “Muffet, these are my cousins. That’s Hapstablook, and that’s Tapstablook. We’re the Blook family.”

“Goodness!” said Muffet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both! I suppose this means I can’t call you ‘Blooky’ anymore. I hadn’t realised it’s a family name!”

“Nonsense,” cried the ghost named Hapstablook. “That’s an adorable nickname. You may call me ‘Hapsta’, darling.”

“And you can call me REALLY ANGRY!” shouted the final ghost. “Who the hell is this, Napsta? Why’ve you brought them here? You’ve probably scared off Shyren!”

“They’ve practically been talking about Muffet nonstop since they got back from the Ruins, Tappy.”

“Do not embarrass me in front of guests!”

“Please ignore them,” said Hapsta to Muffet. “Tappy’s even worse with strangers than Napsta, in their own way. I promise we’re actually very happy to see you, darling. Napsta’s told us all about you.”

“I see,” said Muffet shakily. “Thank you, Hapsta.” While Napstablook floated off to talk to Tappy, she took the opportunity to look around. It was a fairly sparse house, with only one room. There was a round table with no chairs, a fridge, and several radios and cassettes littered about. The walls and floorboards were plain. 

While they certainly looked similar, she also noticed that the Blooks were actually much easier for her to tell apart than she had impulsively thought. Hapsta was somewhat narrower than their two cousins, and their eyes were larger. Tapstablook was the smallest of the three, and their eyes were closer set.

“Well,” said Hapsta. “Here we all are! Welcome to Chateau Blook! Actually, this is Napsta’s house. I live next door. You must have seen it on your way here.”

“I did, but where does Tap – Tapstablook live? I only saw two houses.”

“Tappy doesn’t have a house. They swap between Napsta’s and mine. Sometimes, they sleep outside.”

“You bet I do! And sometimes, I-“

“Please, no more shouting, Tapsta,” chimed Napstablook anxiously. 

“Fine, fine, fine. Sorry.”

“Tappy means well, honestly,” whispered Hapsta conspiratorially to Muffet. “They’re a little… abrasive, at first. But they really do care about Napsta. They get worried when they leave the farm.”

“Is that so?” asked Muffet. She watched as Tapsta tried to argue with Napstablook about something. 

“Why don’t we all sit down, and listen to some nice tunes?” offered Napstablook. “I bet we have a lot to talk about.”

The three ghosts floated over to the table. Muffet shuffled awkwardly. She had nowhere to sit. It seemed they really were unused to corporeal guests.

“Oh,” said Napstablook. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry…”

“You should have prepared for your guest, you silly thing,” giggled Hapsta. “Don’t you worry, I think I have a few chairs in my place. I’ll be right back, Muffet!” They darted through the wall.

“Isn’t Hapsta great?” asked Napstablook. “They’re always looking out for me.”

“Hey!” 

“And you too, Tappy.” Napstablook had a tiny smile.

“Here we are,” sang Hapsta as they flew through the front door, carrying a chair. “Please, have a seat, darling!”

Muffet thanked them and perched on the chair. The ghosts took their positions at the table.

Tapstablook regarded Muffet suspiciously. 

“So,” they said. “So. _So._ ”

“…So?”

“So. Napstablook tells me. That your name is Muffet. And that you’re a spider.”

“That’s right,” said Muffet tensely.

“…That’s nice,” finished Tapstablook. Napstablook and Hapsta visibly relaxed.

“I forgot to put the music on,” said Napstablook. “One sec.” They selected a cassette, and carefully loaded it up into one of the radios. Indescribable music filled the room, quiet and ambient. At first, Muffet thought it put her a little on edge, but then she decided she liked it. 

“What is this called?”

“I, um, don’t actually know,” said Napstablook. “It’s just some random cassette I found…”

“It’s Napsta’s own creation,” said Hapsta proudly. “They made it themselves. They’re so humble!”

“Really? Blooky, this is wonderful!”

“Gee…” mumbled Napstablook. 

“I remember you telling me you liked to make music,” said Muffet. “You said you have a cousin who likes to sing, and one who likes to dance.”

“I’m the singing cousin!” proclaimed Hapsta. “One day, you’ll be listening to me on the radio, darling, just you wait!”

“You might not expect it, but Tapsta’s a really good dancer,” said Napstablook.

“What? What do you mean, ‘you might not expect it’? You saying that I look like someone who doesn’t appreciate the arts? Is that it?”

“Oh, Tappy, you know that isn’t what they meant…”

Muffet sat back in her chair and watched the exchange unfold. The Blooks really were a strange little family.


	9. Chapter 9

“Please don’t argue in front of guests,” begged Napstablook.

“I. Am. Not. Arguing! I am _defending-_ “

“You’re making a scene,” hissed Hapsta.

“A scene. A scene! _You’re_ calling _me_ dramatic-“

“This kind of happens a lot,” said Napstablook to Muffet. “They won’t stop…”

Muffet cleared her throat. The two ghosts rose a few feet in shock, and fell silent. They looked like they had forgotten she was there at all.

“Oh, dear,” said Hapstablook. “That was very unbecoming of us. We’re sorry, Muffet.”

“Not me!”

“ _Tapstablook!_ ”

“You’re all forgiven,” said Muffet. Napstablook beamed. “Let’s start again, shall we? You both seem to know a lot about me, but I hardly know anything about you! Could you tell me a little more about yourselves?”

“Well!” began Hapsta, “I’ve always loved theatre. Especially musical theatre! And any sort of acting, really. It’s what I’ve wanted to do for as long as I can remember.”

“Hapsta dreams of being a star,” Napstablook put in. “They tell everyone they meet all about it.”

“They’re a real drama queen!” Tapstablook added.

“True!” giggled Hapsta. “And after I’m famous underground, I’ll become the biggest star on the surface!”

“You have a beautiful voice,” said Muffet admiringly. “I’m certain you’ll do wonderfully… I would love to hear you sing.”

“Goodness, darling, thank you! I shall give a special performance, just for you…”

“No, no, no,” interrupted Tapstablook. “Hapsta loves to show off! But! We have an agreement! If they want to sing, they go to their own house!” 

“Hapsta does sing kind of loud,” piped up Napstablook. “They, um, don’t have much self-restraint.”

“Why, only because everyone deserves to hear me! But I suppose fair is fair. I don’t sing in the house when Tappy’s around, and Tappy’s not allowed to dance on the table anymore.”

“Anymore?” asked Muffet.

“Shyren hasn’t visited since,” said Napstablook sadly. Tapstablook spluttered. Muffet made a mental note to ask about the story later.

“You’ll get to hear me sing later, Muffet, dear,” said Hapsta. “Then you’ll get to be one of my first fans! I’m going to be the Underground’s first ghost star. It’s not going to be easy, but I want to prove to everyone that you don’t need to be corporeal to make it big.” They fluttered their eyes.

Napstablook clapped. The effect was underwhelming, as their ghostly appendages made barely any noise, but Hapsta preened anyway. 

“You sure love making that speech,” Tapstablook groaned. “Moving on, moving on! Let’s talk about me, now!”

“Well, Tapstablook,” said Muffet, “What would you like to do with yourself?”

“Don’t know!” 

“Tappy’s the most indecisive out of all of us,” said Hapsta. “They haven’t decided what they want to do.”

“I literally just said that!”

Muffet caught Napstablook’s worried look. Neither of them wanted this to erupt into another argument.

“So,” she said, a little hastily, “how long have you lived in Waterfall for?”

“A really, really long time,” said Napstablook. “It’s where I met Hapsta and Tapsta.”

“Met?” asked Muffet in confusion. “But, I thought you were cousins.”

Hapsta, Tapstablook, and Napstablook exchanged a brief look.

“Ghost families don’t work like that, Muffet,” explained Hapsta. “We choose our relatives. Tappy and I aren’t cousins in the sense corporeal monsters think of, but when we met we knew we were family. And after we had been living together for a while, we met Napsta.”

“You mean you weren’t always cousins?”

“You could say that,” replied Hapsta. “But I like to think we always were, and we just needed to find each other.”

“I see! Thank you for explaining.”

“And that’s the Blook story!” announced Tapstablook. “No omitted details. The entire Blook story with nothing missing.”

Hapsta made a strangled little sound, and Napstablook looked at the floor.

Muffet looked cautiously between the three. She was intrigued, of course, and it was obvious that there was plenty left unsaid, but manners came first. It was becoming increasingly clear that if the four of them were left in one room for much longer they’d be bouncing off the walls.

“Would anyone like to go for a walk?” she offered. “I would very much like to see more of your home.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!” said Hapsta. “We must show you around, and introduce you to our neighbours.”

“That sounds fun,” said Napstablook. “Um, Tapsta? Are you in…?”

Tapstablook snorted. “I’d rather swim in literal garbage.” They floated out the front door. “I’m going to hang out in the garbage dump. ‘LATER!”

Muffet stared after them. 

“I think they like you,” said Napstablook.

“Are – are you sure?”

“Tappy has a strange sense of humour, darling,” promised Hapsta. “You mustn’t let it bother you. You’ve left quite an impression on them.”

“I suppose if you do say so,” said Muffet, without much conviction. She didn’t yet know what to think of Napstablook’s least civil cousin.

She wasn’t given time to think about it as she was ushered out the door.

“Come on, Muffet,” said Napstablook. “Do you want to see the snails? It’s time to feed them… You can help, if you want.”

“I’d love to, dearie,” smiled Muffet. She thought of Toriel and her fondness for snails. She’d need to tell her all about this. 

“One moment!” came Hapsta’s voice from inside the house. They twirled through the door, carrying a basket full of fruit slices and vegetables. “Now, this way! The Blook family pride is just through here…”

Muffet followed the ghosts through a short stone archway. Before her lay a fenced in area full of dozens of snails, crawling about and on top of each other, of various sizes and colours. Napstablook started collecting uneaten scraps that had begun to wilt, greeting each snail kindly. Hapsta pressed the basket into Muffet’s hands.

“It’s very simple, darling,” they said. “Just put some food down in front of a snail, and they’ll get to it eventually if they want it!” They took some snail food out of the basket, humming. “Hello, my beauties! Did you miss us? Are you hungry?”

Muffet spent a moment watching the cousins work, and looked around. Snails were oozing everywhere, apparently undisturbed by the presence of a stranger. She selected a striking navy blue snail to crouch in front of.

“That’s one’s Luka!” called Hapstablook, who was busy laying down lettuce at the other end of the field. “Strawberries are their favourite.”

Muffet rummaged through the basket, and sure enough, she found a handful of strawberries nestling inside. She carefully placed them in front of the snail, who slowly waved its head and crawled towards them. Or maybe it was staying still. Muffet couldn’t really tell. She giggled. Snails were rather cute in their own way. 

She turned to another snail, this time a plain grey one. She found some tomato slices in her basket. 

“Oh, that’s Terry,” said Napstablook, appearing next to her. “She doesn’t like tomato… I think there’s some cucumber for her instead…”

Feeding the snails was a little more complicated than Muffet had expected. Under Hapsta’s guidance, and Napstablook’s watchful eye, she eventually emptied the basket (and learned all the snail’s names in the process).

“All done!” said Hapsta. “We’ll be back tomorrow, to see if anything needs changing.”

“Yeah,” said Napstablook. “Keeping snails is hard work… thanks for helping, Muffet. It’s always nice to have some extra help…” 

“We could get even more done if Tappy worked more often,” said Hapsta.

“Tapsta doesn’t care about the farm as much…” Napstablook told Muffet. “They like exploring more.”

At once, Tapstablook emerged from behind a rock.

“Hey, hey! HEY! Who’s disparaging my character?”

“I thought you were going to the rubbish dump,” said Hapsta sulkily.

“I keep telling you the farm’s boring!” declared Tapstablook, ignoring them. “None of you like my ideas! Snail rides! Snail racing! Caged snail fights!”

“That’s because your ideas are terrible!” cried Hapsta. “And we are not having caged snail fights.”

“Why not, huh?”

“Because it’d be really mean,” said Napstablook, as Hapsta said at the same time, “No one would watch that.”

“Look! Look. I’m just saying. You’re missing out on business.”

“But-” protested Napstablook, “But we’ve been getting loads of business. Last month we had three whole customers.”

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing! I thought we owned this farm as a family!”

“Technically, Napsta owns the farm,” said Hapsta. “You don’t even own a house. You live in ours.”

“Whatever!” shouted Tapstablook. “WHATEVER!” They disappeared down the cavern.

“Don’t worry,” mumbled Napstablook, watching Tapstablook’s retreating form. “They’ll be fine…”

“I really do apologise on their behalf,” sighed Hapsta. “They weren’t always so… difficult.”

“What… do you mean?” asked Muffet, not quite knowing if she should.

“What we didn’t tell you at the table,” said Hapsta, “is that we have a fourth cousin. They used to live with us here, too… But we haven’t seen them in years and years. They just – disappeared one day. We were all so upset… but it hit Tappy the hardest, I think. They were very close…”

“Tapsta hates it when we talk about it,” said Napstablook, their eyes sparkling with fat white tears. “That’s why we didn’t bring them up.”

Muffet wasn’t expecting to hear something like this so suddenly, and didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Hapsta came to her rescue.

“But, well, that’s in the past!” they said. “So what if Tappy’s a little more, er, abrasive? At least we still have the three of us.”

“Yeah,” said Napstablook, sounding a bit more cheerful. “Come on, let’s see Shyren and Brylla.”

***

“You’ve mentioned Shyren a few times,” said Muffet as they travelled. “What is she like?”

“She’s lovely!” Hapsta replied. “She has a gorgeous voice, like mine.”

“She’s really shy,” added Napstablook. “She might not want to say hi, if a stranger’s here… but it’s been a while since I've seen her, so I want to try.”

Muffet remembered something, and giggled. “What was that about Tapstablook dancing on the table?”

Napstablook jerked in mid-air, and Hapsta gave a snort of guilty laughter.

Hapsta turned to Muffet. “Promise you won’t tell them I told you?” 

“Absolutely, dear,” she assured.

“Well,” began Hapsta. “Napsta was the first friend Shyren made, when she came here with her sister, Brylla. Brylla never particularly cared for meeting anyone, but poor Shyren was so happy to make friends with a local, so they could both settle into the neighbourhood properly…”

“She still hid when I invited her over,” said Napstablook.

“She did! How absolutely precious, the poor thing… Anyway, she trusted Napsta well enough, but she was a little frightened of me. And she was absolutely terrified of Tappy. But, eventually, we coaxed her into visiting us…”

“Brylla came, too.”

“Yes, that’s right. That was a first, too. So there I was, trying to clean the place up, and dear Napsta was being a bundle of nerves, and there was Tappy, dancing on the table as always. ‘Stress-dancing’, they said. And I’d asked them to stop, because I had just made a pot of tea for Shyren and Brylla… Not normal tea, either! The non-ghost kind.”

“And you had just put it on the table,” said Napstablook, who was finally wearing a tiny smile. “And we heard a knock at the door.”

“And Tappy – _blessed_ Tapstablook – had somehow forgotten what it was all about in the first place, and had no idea we were having people over. They whirled around, yelling something like ‘who is it’…”

Muffet covered her mouth, staring with wide eyes.

“…And kicked the tea pot straight off the table,” finished Napstablook. “It landed right on the door, just when Shyren was opening it… smashing and spilling tea, just missing her.”

“No,” breathed Muffet.

“It was the absolute worst thing,” giggled Hapsta. “I’d have died, if I could. Shyren was off in a flash, of course.”

“Brylla was so mad.”

“Oh, dear, she was furious. She’s so protective of Shyren.”

“She forgave us, eventually…” said Napstablook. “And so did Shyren… she knew it was an accident. But she hasn’t come over since. Not while Tapsta might be there…”

“She might make friends with them yet. In a hundred years, or so… Now, we’re almost there! Just in that little cave over there. Napsta, you had better go first.”

Napstablook floated over to entrance. It was little more than a hole hewn from the blue rock, but Muffet couldn’t tell how far it extended. It was pitch black inside.

“Hello,” called Napstablook. “Is anyone home?”

Muffet heard the grinding of scales over stone. It sounded like something very large was moving about from within. 

“Yes,” rumbled a low, resonant voice. “Who’s there?”

“Hi, Brylla… It’s Hapstablook and me. We came to say hello… we have a friend, too.”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Muffet… She’s not from around here. She’s really nice…”

There was some whispering before Brylla replied. “Where’s the other one?”

“Tapsta? Oh, um, they’re not here. Don’t worry, it’s just us…”

Something illuminated within the cave, revealing a mass of dark green scales and a huge mouth full of impossibly long teeth. The light came from the tip of some sort of spine or fin attached to the monster’s head. Muffet could only assume this was Brylla.

A much smaller pale green monster peeked from behind her.

“Hey, guys!” said Napstablook. “I’m glad you could say hi.”

“Shyren agreed,” said Brylla. “A friend of yours is good enough for us.” 

The monster named Shyren leant out a fraction more from behind her sister. Muffet could still barely see her.

“We were in the area, and we have a friend with us who travelled from the Ruins!” said Hapsta. “We were hoping she could meet you.”

Shyren darted in front of Brylla and appeared to hum quietly in her ear.

“Shyren’s pleased to meet you. So am I. Ruins, huh?” Brylla ran a tongue over her sharp teeth. “We’ve never been there. That’s ages away, am I right?”

“It certainly was a journey,” said Muffet. “I’m delighted to meet you both, too.”

“How’ve you been?” asked Napstablook.

“We’re good,” said Brylla, Shyren pressed against her side. “That royal guard stopped bothering us.”

“Who?” asked Hapsta. “Gerson?”

“Yeah. He kept trying to ask if we’d been getting into fights. This isn’t the city, damn it.” She licked her teeth again. “We got him to leave us alone, though. Think he knows we can look after ourselves.”

“Oh, dear… Brylla, you do know he’s captain of the guard, right? I do hope you didn’t do anything rash.”

“’Course I didn’t.” Shyren hummed into her ear once again. “Why don’t you run along and ask him yourself? Since you’re showing your friend around. Shyren and I are tired.” Brylla dimmed the light of her lure, and the cave became dark again.

“That’s a good idea,” said Napstablook. “Bye, guys. Thanks for having us.”

“Toodles!” called Hapsta.

“Goodbye, Brylla!” said Muffet. “Goodbye, Shyren.”

“Yeah,” came Brylla’s voice from the blackness. “Nice meeting you, Muffet. ‘Later.” Muffet thought she heard a quiet voice harmonise with the last word.

“That was nice,” said Napstablook happily as they left.

“It was,” agreed Muffet. “It’s lovely being able to meet so many new people. I do see what you meant about Shyren, though.”

“Right? She’s even more retiring than Napsta… that’s why they get along so well! Now, what would we like to do?”

“Who was this ‘Gerson’ you mentioned? The captain of the guard?”

“Oh, him… he’s nice, I guess,” said Napstablook vaguely. “He’s lived in Waterfall for ages, and been captain, too, so he’s kind of scary… but he lives just down the way, if you wanted to meet him…”

“Hm. Yes, I think I’d like to!” 

“It was quite interesting for those two to be as comfortable around you as they were, you know,” mused Hapsta as they walked. “Shyren is usually far quieter around new people. And because she was relaxed, Brylla was more relaxed, too. You did very well.”

“Especially after Tapsta…”

The three shared some nervous laughter before coming across a monster sitting on a rock. He was clad in chainmail, and his exposed body was covered in green scales. He had a huge tortoise shell on his back, and a straggly brown beard. He seemed to be carving stones. If nothing else revealed him to surely be the royal guard, the war hammer leaning against the wall behind him did.

He looked up from his work and blinked at the approaching trio.

“Well, I’ll be!” he said. “A spider in the mines! That’s good luck.”

“I was unaware,” said Muffet, giving a polite smile. “I am Muffet, queen of the spiders.”

“Name’s Gerson. Gerson the Hammer, Captain of the Royal Guard, at your service.” He stood with a flourish and turned to face his other two visitors. “And we have two of the Blooks, as well! What’s this about, eh? Anything to report?”

“No, Mr. Gerson…” said Napstablook. “We just wanted to say hello.”

“That so?” Gerson sat down again with a grin. “Good. Didn’t feel like doing work today.” He picked up the rocks he had been carving.

“Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you,” said Hapsta anxiously. “Brylla said she’s been having run-ins with you. She hasn’t done anything wrong, has she?”

“Hah!” Gerson barked. “She’s a rude one, but she hasn’t been picking any fights. She looks after her sister, that much I can tell. Soon as a monster so much as looks at her, that oversized anglerfish is in their face. As long as she keeps it tidy, she’ll get no complaints from me. And the little one couldn’t cause trouble if she tried.”

Hapsta breathed a sigh of relief.

“Bye, Mr. Gerson,” said Napstablook.

Gerson winked. “You three stay out of trouble, you hear?”

***

Back at Napstablook’s, they chatted endlessly. It felt much easier without Tapstablook in the room.

“They always do this,” said Hapsta when Muffet noted that their cousin still hadn’t returned. “Sometimes they can spend weeks all by themselves. They only came home because we told them we would have a guest over.”

Eventually Muffet began to yawn, and Hapsta asked what she planned to do next.

“I suppose I hadn’t really thought it through,” she admitted. “I’ll catch the ferry home, or find an inn.”

“But it’s far too late for you to make your trip home!” gasped Hapsta.

“There’s an inn in Temmie Village, I think,” said Napstablook. “But it’s kind of a pain to get to…”

“And they’re a villainously fickle lot. By tomorrow, they’ll have probably decided they’d rather run a restaurant than an inn! Why don’t you sleep here? I’ve a spare bed for you. You could set off after you’ve rested!”

“Why, that would be very kind of you! Though I’d hate to intrude…”

“None of that, darling,” said Hapsta firmly. “That’s your fourth yawn in two minutes. Come along!”

While Napstablook’s house was draughty, sparsely decorated, and none too clean, Hapsta’s was almost the complete opposite. The floorboards were sparkling, and the walls were smothered in thick pink wallpaper. Against the wall were well-packed boxes stacked onto each other. A neatly made bed with a pink quilt stood in the corner. It was the only one.

“But where’s the spare bed?”

“You’re looking at it, silly,” laughed Hapsta. “I don’t actually sleep on it! You didn’t see a bed in Napsta’s house, did you?”

“I suppose not,” said Muffet. “But then, why do you have it at all?”

“For decoration.” Hapsta blushed a light blue. “And… well, because sometimes I like to practise for when I’ll be living on the surface. Humans sleep on beds, you know!”

“I see,” smiled Muffet. She covered another dainty yawn.

“I had better leave you alone now, darling. You need your beauty sleep, after all! I’ll be just next-door with Napsta. Do fetch us if you need anything!”

“Thank you, dearie,” yawned Muffet as Hapsta closed the door. Suddenly, the room was quiet.

Muffet took a peek into one of the boxes. It was filled with seemingly random odds and ends of varying states of disrepair, though all quite clean. An old microphone lay next to a bundle of gloves. They didn’t look of monster make.

Her shoes clicking on the wooden floor, Muffet walked over to the bed. It was perfectly free of dust, but hadn’t seemed to have been slept in in a long time.

She lay on her back, sighing. She’d had an enjoyable day, but an exhausting one, too.

It had been wonderful to see Napstablook again, and she’d gotten along superbly with Hapsta. And they had both assured her that Tapstablook didn’t dislike her as much as they seemed to. She supposed that at least was a relief.

She had barely been away for a day, but she found herself fretting about her spiders. She knew they could look after themselves for that long, but she hadn’t been apart from them since her mother had died.

She wondered when she had last thought of Poppet. Watching the ghost cousins had reminded her.

 _Do ghosts have parents?_ She wondered.

_That would not be a very sensitive question._

She thought about the nameless fourth cousin as she fell asleep.

***

Muffet had prepared to be out for a few days, but she decided to head home soon after the first. She felt a little anxious leaving Lovett and her spiders alone, and she missed Toriel.

“You’re leaving already?” asked Hapsta as they gathered with Napstablook by the table. “But you’ve only just arrived!”

“I’d love to stay with you a little longer, but I feel guilty leaving my spiders alone,” said Muffet. “And I’m worried about my little Lovett getting into trouble without me!”

“Aw…” said Napstablook. “That’s okay, Muffet. It was really nice having you over. You can come back any time…”

“Thank you, Blooky. I had a wonderful time with you all.”

Hapsta, who had appeared to be deep in thought, suddenly leapt up.

“I have an idea!” they cried. “Wait here.” They flew from the room.

Muffet and Napstablook barely had time to give each other a confused look before they were back, slamming one of their boxes from their house onto the table excitedly.

“What’s this, Hapsta?” asked Muffet.

“Tappy knows I like to collect human things,” they replied, “so whenever they find something in the garbage dump that came from the surface, they give it to me. It turned out they took these by mistake, since they’re monster made, but now I’m glad they did."

Hapsta flipped the box open, and pulled out a somewhat bulky complicated looking device made of old brass.

“Ta-da!” they sang. “A telegraph machine!”

“Oh?” said Muffet curiously. “I haven’t used one of these before.”

“Neither have I, really,” said Hapsta as they took another telegraph from the box. “I didn’t even know they were magical and not human-made until I realised they still worked! We’ll keep one, and you can take one with you. That way, we can send messages to each other! Wouldn’t that be fabulous?”

“Oh, Hapsta, that’s a wonderful idea! But how do they work?”

“Frankly, I have no idea. I was just fiddling with the buttons when it started to whirr! I’m sure we can figure it out. How complicated could it be?”

“That does sound kind of fun,” agreed Napstablook.

***

Soon, Muffet was safely on the ferry, with the precious telegraph tucked under her arm in a bag. The river person had been waiting for her. Hapsta waved a handkerchief in farewell, and Napstablook tried not to cry. Even Tapstablook had come to see her off.

Without Napstablook, the trip home was even less eventful than the voyage to Waterfall. Muffet occasionally trailed her fingers in the water.

After an hour had passed in perfect silence, the river person turned their head towards her.

“It’s definitely orange,” they said.

“Thank you,” said Muffet.

***

It was late in the afternoon when Muffet eventually hopped from the ferry onto the wet grass north of Snowdin. She shivered and drew her coat tighter around her, burying her hands deep in her pockets. She ought to have dressed more warmly, but she had left the Ruins on impulse.

It was a fine day for this region’s standards, and monsters were sitting outside or going for walks, enjoying the mild weather while it lasted. Muffet sidestepped a few children who were being called inside by their parents, and trudged towards the forest.

The wild animals of the woods had become somewhat acquainted to the sight of her, and tended to let her pass without incident while eyeing her from the shadows. And when the odd gyftrot or snowdrake did leap out at her, she needed only bare her fangs to send them scurrying. It wasn’t an unpleasant walk, but all the same, she was relieved when she saw the great walls of the Ruins loom in front of her.

Lovett sniffed eagerly at her heels, almost making her stumble, and her spiders clamoured around her. Some demanded to know why they hadn’t been invited along, but quickly lost interest when she told them of the long ferry ride. None of them cared for water. She told them everything about the rather dynamic family of ghosts, and of the snail farm, and of everyone else she had met.

“It’s just as well you weren’t there, my sweet,” she said as she tickled Lovett on the head, “or you would have gobbled every one of those snails up!”

For the spiders, the night was yet young, but Toriel kept different hours, and Muffet wanted to say hello to her before she went to bed. She trotted towards her house at a brisk pace and smiled when she saw light streaming through the shuttered windows. Toriel’s face broke into a wide smile when she opened the door to see her.

“Why, hello, Muffet! I found your note, and was not sure when to expect you back. Would you like to come inside?”

When Muffet stepped inside the warm house, she immediately smelt cooking. Toriel must have noticed her looking towards the kitchen.

“Would you like to join me for dinner?” she asked. “It is nothing terribly fancy, I am afraid. I have just finished baking a snail pie.”

Muffet realised she hadn’t had a thing to eat all day. 

“That sounds lovely, dearie.”

Over the comfortable sounds of cutlery on porcelain, and the crackling of the fireplace, the two chatted about their days. Muffet told her about Napstablook, and was surprised to learn she recognised the name. 

“I have been to their farm many times,” she said. “I used to purchase all my snails from them. How nice that they have made a friend!”

“That’s strange. I invited them to meet you when they came to visit, and they didn’t seem to know who you were.”

“They are of a vague sort, are they not?” answered Toriel with a smile. “They never asked for my name. I was happy to do my shopping as someone other than a queen. It was quite refreshing.”

At the end of their meal, Toriel asked “But what is that you have there?”

“Hm?” Muffet looked at the lumpy bag that sat by her chair. She had forgotten she had brought it with her. “Oh! This is a telegraph. The cousins gave it to me.” She placed it onto the table. “We’re not sure how it works, though.”

“A telegraph!” said Toriel, leaning forward. “I have used these quite often before. Would you like me to show you how to operate it? Provided the magic has not worn off.”

“How lucky! Yes, please do.”

“Humans use these too, I believe, but one of our royal scientists discovered a way to make them run on magic, instead of those fussy wires. Look, do you see this?” Toriel gestured to a round appendage shaped like a reel that protruded from the side of the telegraph machine. Muffet nodded, and stood to walk to Toriel’s side to get a better look. “This is the receiver. It will print out the telegrams on a long strip of paper – if it has been correctly loaded, of course.”

“Does it need a particular sort of paper?” asked Muffet.

“It should not do, as long as the paper you have has been cut to fit the machine. My goodness, this receiver still has paper in it! I wonder how old it is.”

“Hapstablook told me Tapstablook found it in a rubbish dump.”

“I suppose it would be best if we did not know more, after all. Now, here -“ Toriel turned the machine until the other side was facing them. “-is the transmitter key. This is how you send your telegram. Tell me, Muffet, are you familiar with Morse Code?”

Muffet shook her head. “I’m afraid I am not.”

Toriel laughed. “I see we might have our work cut out for us! Very well.” She rose to her feet and fetched a pencil and paper. “’Morse’ is a code the humans invented to transfer messages nonverbally. You may think of it as composed of ‘dots’ and ‘dashes’, which, in various combinations, represent different letters. These ‘dots’ and ‘dashes’ may be represented visually…” She drew a neat dot followed by a line on the sheet of paper. “…Or with sound.” She pressed down on the key twice – first, just for a moment, then for a full second. The result was a short burst of electronic sound followed by a drawn out one. Muffet jumped. It was surprisingly loud.

“Each letter corresponds to a unique combination of ‘dashes’ and ‘dots’,” continued Toriel. “The letter ‘a’ is represented by a dot, followed by a dash. She wrote an ‘a’ on the paper, and a dash and a dot beside it. “You will find that the more common a letter is, the simpler it will be represented in Morse Code.”

To Muffet’s surprise, Toriel put the pencil in her hand.

“We will go through the alphabet together, and you will copy down the Morse Code for each letter as I tell you,” she said seriously.

“What’s this, Toriel?” laughed Muffet. “I didn’t know you were a teacher!”

Toriel blushed. “I apologise,” she said sheepishly. “I did not mean to talk for so long. I have always wanted to be a teacher. We could drop this now, if you like.”

“Oh, no, no, I would love for you to teach this to me. I think you’re being a wonderful teacher.”

Toriel turned a slightly deeper pink, and smiled. “Well then! The letter ‘b’ is written with a dash, followed be three dots…”

***

Muffet was quick to learn. She had an excellent memory for anything numerical, and writing in dots and dashes was a little like adding numbers, in a way. Toriel was pleased.

“That will be enough for tonight, I think,” she eventually said. “You may take this sheet with you for practise.” She winked. “Homework.”

Muffet smiled a little wearily. She had enjoyed being taught by Toriel, but her head was beginning to spin. She stretched in her chair, not wanting the night to end.

But Toriel seemed to have an idea. She asked Muffet to stay put for a moment, then stood and hurried to the kitchen. Muffet heard some clinking, and a cabinet opening. Toriel reappeared after a moment, carrying two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid.

“I do not drink very often,” she said, “but I think a small glass of whisky would go down very well tonight, if you would like to join me.”

“That sounds absolutely perfect.” Muffet didn’t recognise the label on the bottle of whisky, but it looked very expensive. Toriel must have brought it with her from the castle.

Toriel settled in her armchair, and Muffet sat where she had moved her seat across from her beside the fireplace. They each sighed in contentment, and shared a smile.

Muffet raised her glass from her lap and sniffed cautiously. It smelt so strongly she immediately wrinkled her nose. She was no stranger to alcohol, but had rarely drunk anything stronger than the ciders and wines she and her spiders brewed. She had a sip. It certainly was harsh, but quite pleasant. 

They chatted cosily. Muffet felt her limbs loosen a little more each time the whisky burned its way down her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the drink or the fire, but she was beginning to feel terribly warm.

They finished their glasses, and refilled them. Toriel serenely sipped from hers with a redness to her cheeks and a smile. Muffet began to giggle and raise her voice. Toriel had drunk no less than her, so why did she still look so graceful and composed? That certainly wasn’t fair. Her fur even seemed to glow. 

Muffet was just marvelling at how long and soft Toriel’s ears looked when she heard her repeating her name.

“Muffet?” came Toriel’s voice. “Are you feeling well?”

Muffet tried to respond, but couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Oh, dear… perhaps we should say goodnight.”

Toriel wanted to sleep. That was a true shame, but Muffet knew it had been coming. After all, they had been sitting and talking and drinking for… how long?

She put down her glass and stood with a huff. Perhaps a little too quickly. She tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and immediately snorted with laughter. Toriel was saying something. She tried to rise to her feet but settled for rolling onto her back. Toriel’s face appeared above her. Such an angelic face.

“You might have had a little much to drink, I am afraid,” she said.

“Toriel,” said Muffet breathlessly. “Shh.” She pointed a finger upwards and began to laugh again.

Toriel chuckled in exasperated endearment. “I do not think you can walk through the Ruins in this state. Let me help you up. I will walk you to bed.” She extended a hand. Muffet took it with three of hers and clumsily hoisted herself up.

“Thank you, dearie,” she slurred. “But I do believe I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

“You need a proper rest.”

Still holding Toriel’s hand, Muffet took a wobbly step. Her boot skidded on the floor and she began to topple with a shriek, but Toriel effortlessly scooped her up into her arms. Cradled against her chest, Muffet found herself in close proximity to Toriel’s face. Her heart began to hammer.

“My dear Muffet,” sighed Toriel fondly as she carried her down the passageway. “I did not take you to be such a lightweight… What am I going to do with you?”

Muffet wasn’t listening, but she was extremely interested in the way Toriel’s face was moving. 

She leant up and gave her a kiss on the nose. 

Toriel came to a jerky halt. 

“M-Muffet?” Did she _stammer?_

But Muffet was spent. She sagged into Toriel’s arms, limbs hanging limply. 

“You’re very soft,” she mumbled into her fur. Then she began to snore, face pressed into the crook of Toriel’s arm.

Toriel didn’t move. She stood still for several minutes, feeling the little spider queen breathe in and out.

Then – carefully, so as not to make much noise – she padded to her bedroom and laid her charge down onto her own bed. She gently pulled the quilt up to her chin. She spent a little while longer listening to her snuffle quietly in her sleep.

And then, she backed out of the room, and slowly returned to doze in her armchair.


	10. Chapter 10

When Muffet awoke, she didn’t immediately recognise where she was. Her visits to Toriel’s home, as frequent as they were, generally remained within the boundaries of the kitchen and living room. She groggily began to study her surroundings. She was in a bed much too large for her – she could roll three times over in either direction and just barely reach the edge. 

She wondered if she ought to get up. It seemed a little ambitious for the time being, so she opted for simply sitting up instead. It was a bit of a struggle to free her arms from the sea of blankets, and she made a note of how her poor head thumped from all the activity. She really wasn’t sure how much she had had to drink last night.

Still, she had a better vantage point of the room from there. There were some cosy pictures hanging on the wall, and immediately beside her, a cluttered bookshelf, with some bright yellow flowers sitting atop it in a vase.

_This is Toriel’s bedroom._

She had no idea what time it was. There were no windows in the room, but soft light streamed in from beneath the door, suggesting the lamps were on. It could be mid-morning just as easily as early evening.

Once again, she considered leaving the bed. It was a very displeasing idea – she was so terribly warm and snug, bundled up as she was, and she practically sank into the oversized pillow behind her. But she felt quite guilty over intruding like this, and on such short notice – after all, where on earth had Toriel slept?

Enough was enough, Muffet decided. Reluctantly, she slid from beneath the quilt. She found her boots sitting neatly side-by-side underneath the bed and put them on. There was a mirror on the wall, too, so she made a disinterested attempt at making herself look presentable. There wasn’t much she could do. Her hair was a mess of loose hairs, of course, and she had long since misplaced her hair ribbons, so she smoothed it down with her hands and left it at that.

Stumbling a little, she made her way to the bedroom door and pushed it open, letting light flood the room. She winced, and shielded her eyes. She had forgotten that the dim glow of the Ruins displeased Toriel, and that she liked keeping her house brightly lit.

She could hear busy noises coming from down the hall, and could smell something cooking. Toriel must have already woken up. She headed towards the living room, regretting the loud noises her shoes made on the wooden floor.

“Good morning, sleepy one!” came Toriel’s voice from the kitchen. “I was afraid I would need to come and wake you up.” She poked her head through the doorframe, and snorted when caught sight of Muffet. “Why, look at you! Did you sleep well?”

Muffet blushed. Of course Toriel looked pristine as ever.

“I did,” she said. “Thank you very much for putting up with me. I’m sorry for taking up your bed.”

“Do not worry. I am perfectly used to spending the night in my old armchair. It happens more often than not when I am engrossed in a good book… Now, are you feeling well? Last night, you seemed to be a little out-of-sorts.”

“I feel a little out-of-sorts today, as well,” admitted Muffet, embarrassment mounting. “And I’m dreadfully thirsty.”

“I will make some tea, to go with breakfast,” said Toriel. “But first you must drink some water.”

***

For breakfast, Toriel had chopped up a couple of snails and cooked them in an omelette, accompanied with two piping hot cups of fruity black tea. Her sore throat protested, but it tasted like heaven to Muffet.

It was more of a feeling than anything, but Toriel seemed to be giving her a strange look every now and again. It was always gone so quickly that Muffet would wonder if it wasn’t just her imagination, but she began to worry that she had done something wrong. She couldn’t think of what it might have been. If she couldn’t remember it, then it must have happened the night before. But Toriel was a woman of little nonsense – if something annoyed her, she spoke her mind. It wouldn’t make sense for her to be casting furtive glances over something like that.

Muffet’s head was still quite foggy. This was a question that would need to wait until later.

Toriel pushed away her plate. “Oh!” she said. “Before I forget. Your friends appear to have sent you a telegram already! It arrived while you were asleep. Would you like to take a look?”

That came as a welcome change of subject to Muffet. 

“Really! Yes, please.”

Toriel retrieved the telegraph machine from where it had been left forgotten during the night’s activities. “You have not forgotten yesterday’s lesson, I hope!” she said. “The machine prints out your letter in a single, coiled strip. It is usually cut to fit and taped to an ordinary sheet of paper, to be made presentable.”

“How old-fashioned! But it sounds rather fun.”

“Most people prefer to simply send letters instead… In former times, the telegram would be printed out as the Morse code it had been written as, requiring a translator on both ends. Here it is! Do go on and read it.”

Muffet carefully took the paper from Toriel. It was a little difficult to digest at first, presented in a single, unbroken line as it was, but her mind rearranged the words into sentences and paragraphs. She began to read her first telegram from the ghost cousins.

 _BLOOK WATERFALL RESIDENCE_  
_TO: MUFFET AT RUINS_  
_hi muffet. this is napstablook here. i hope i tapped in the address right… i dont really know how the spell works… anyway how are you doing. i know its only been like ten hours since we last saw each other butfhggeegfegeeeeeeeeeeeeee HeyheyHEYmuffet d tWHATT’S UPSDFGKJS ha ha Napsta said TAP that means its minee e e e e e e ehey quit it_

_Darling Muffet, I am so sorry about Tapsta. I, Hapstablook, now control the beep-beep thing, so you may expect only the most perfect form of telegragfgmagobclett tttttttttttgimmethatbackttt_

_guys come on were gonna run out of spa_  
_END_

Muffet stared. She pictured the three ghosts trying to wrestle the transmitter key away from each other so they could each have their say, and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Toriel was obviously interested, so she showed her the telegram.

“Oh, dear,” said Toriel with a chuckle. “What a lively family.”

“I suppose that what Blooky was trying to say near the end is that they were running out of space.”

“That would be right. The standard telegram has a maximum length of one hundred words… Not including the addresses, of course. This, too, has improved with time, but one hundred is the current limit. Another reason why the simple written letter is largely preferred… it is a pity. I do like these things.”

“Still, it has its advantages over sending letters, I can imagine,” said Muffet. “After all, I can’t imagine a mail-carrier willing to deliver from Waterfall to the Ruins.”

“Quite so,” sighed Toriel. “Now, should you like to respond, do remember that it will take several hours for your telegram to send.” 

“Thank you so very much, dearie. I think I ought to take my leave, now. I simply must see to Lovett, and I didn’t tell the others where I would be. Last night was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.” There was that look again, and Toriel seemed to be waiting to see if Muffet to continue. But Muffet still didn’t know what to say. She was overcome by a peculiar mood. She felt she could hear her own heart beat.

Muffet departed from Toriel’s house that day with a wobble to her step, feeling very much like she had forgotten something.

Her first order of business upon getting home, after setting the heavy telegraph down on her desk, was to locate Lovett. Her spiders asked where she had been all night, and marvelled at her messy hair, which she usually kept so carefully neat. She thanked them when they brought her some of her spare ribbons.

“I had a lovely time last night, Lovett,” she said, her pet snoozing contentedly in her lap. “Though my head does hurt a little.”

She took the little sheet of paper she had written Toriel’s lessons on out of her pocket and decided to copy it down somewhere. She reached into her desk drawers, hoping for some spare paper, but her fingers connected with something hard instead. Taken a little by surprise, she pulled out a heavy purple book.

 _Why, it’s my dear old diary,_ she thought. _I wonder how long it’s been tucked away down here._

She flipped through it, smiling a little at some of the memories, and grimacing at a couple of the others. Once upon a time, she had been writing several entries a week, but the more recent she went, the sparser they became. Her last entry was a few months ago, after taking Lovett for a walk and bumping into Toriel on her way from her garden. It made her a little sad.

It hadn’t been that she no longer enjoyed writing in her diary, she supposed. She had just been terribly busy since she had met Toriel.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she murmured to the diary. “I’ve just the use for you, now.”

Turning to a fresh page, she took out the telegram the Blooks had sent her and carefully cut it up with a pair of scissors, where she thought it would make sense for a new line to begin. When she was done, she used a bit of spider web to fasten the pieces to a new page in the diary until it was arranged like a proper letter, making certain to write the date up the top. She sat back for a moment, feeling quite pleased with her craftwork. It would be nice to put her telegrams in there, she thought.

Then, she began to wonder what to send in reply.

She tapped slowly and carefully on the transmitter key, frowning with concentration. 

_Dearest Blooky, Hapsta, and Tapsta, she began. I received your telegram successfully. Though it was a little hard to understand! Toriel has told me that there is a limit of 100 words for this device, so perhaps you ought to take turns next time you write. I made the trip home safely, though I have a slight cold and a headache. It was so nice seeing you all. I hope to be able to visit again soon. Lots of love from Muffet._

She wasn’t entirely satisfied with what she wrote – it seemed much too short, and stiffly formal. But she supposed she would need to make do. And it was so nice to have this sort of communication at all.

What a funny little thing, she thought as she watched the little machine whirr. I know how to use it, but I haven’t the faintest idea how the magic works on the inside. I’ll have to ask Toriel tomorrow.

_Toriel._

_Wait a moment._

She had kissed Toriel, hadn’t she?

Muffet’s heart began to quicken, and her head started to race.

Last night. When they had been drinking. She had gone and kissed her.

With dread, she remembered the odd little looks Toriel had given her that morning. She must have remembered, of course she had, she had barely seemed tipsy at the time…

 _Why did I do that?_

_No. You know why, you silly girl._

She had kissed her because she wanted to. Because, for a while now, her heart had begun to beat a little harder at the thought of her.

And that Toriel was the most beautiful monster she had ever seen may have been a factor.

_I’m afraid you might be in love, old girl._

To her horror, she remembered that that wasn’t all. She had called her ‘soft’. _You’re very soft,_ she had said.

Muffet’s hands tightened on Lovett in panic, who gave a little yelp of complaint. She had actually said that? How mortifying!

What must she think of her now?

She couldn’t remember anything else from that night. It was impossible for her to gauge how Toriel might have reacted. So instead, she tried to remember in detail the tiny, fleeting glances Toriel had been giving her in the morning…

They hadn’t appeared to be upset looks. And she certainly wasn’t acting upset. She was actually quite cheerful. So that meant she probably didn’t hate Muffet now. That was slightly encouraging.

She had looked almost expectant. Or perhaps disappointed?

Even as she reprimanded herself for being so hopeful, Muffet considered the possibility. What if there was just a small chance that Toriel had similar feelings? She just might have been waiting for Muffet to bring up what had happened.

Muffet felt herself working herself up into a panic. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

She needed something to do, something quiet, something introspective, a way to get her turbulent thoughts together.

Muffet had once done something like that quite often. She looked back down at her diary, thinking about how it had shown up out of nowhere like an old friend. Trembling a little, she picked up her pen.

_My dear diary,_

_I know it’s been a long time since I’ve used you. I’m sorry._

_I’ve almost forgotten how to write these, but today I have an entry I must make, so I suppose I’ll start from the beginning. I think I have fallen in love with Toriel, dear diary. Merely thinking of her gives me comfort. I kissed her last night. Now I don’t know what I’ve done. Part of me almost wants to hope this is all only a dream, or that this can all be forgotten by tomorrow. She is my dearest friend, and I’m afraid I might have done something very foolish._

Muffet felt a little embarrassed, scribbling in her diary like an infatuated schoolgirl. But it was helping. She had forgotten how therapeutic it was. 

_But I don’t think I can hope for that while there’s a chance she might accept my feelings. This morning, she gave me strange looks. She might believe the kiss was simply a meaningless, drunken act. I wish she knew it wasn’t so. It meant so much more. I have to tell her._

She had to tell her.

Muffet stumbled to her feet. It was so obvious. What was she doing? She had to tell her!

She startled Lovett as she tore from her seat, and the other spiders watched in alarm. She ran all the way back to Toriel’s house, and brought the diary with her.

She thumped on the door with the flat of her palm. “Toriel!” 

She waited, and then tried knocking again. But nobody came.

Muffet wanted to cry out in frustration. Where had she gone?

_The garden,_ she thought. 

She turned and ran again, heading towards Toriel’s flower patch. She nearly tripped over a group of whimsun in her haste.

When she finally reached the cavern she was looking for, she skittered to a halt, breathing heavily, almost ill from urgency. She felt her confidence drain away. She didn’t even know what to say to Toriel when she would show up in front of her, panting and dishevelled. What would she think?

_It’s too late for that now. I’ve made my choice._

She stepped forward, putting herself in direct view of the golden flowerbed.

Toriel wasn’t there.

Muffet looked around until she was certain, her head whipping back and forth. She gave a long, quiet sigh. Toriel was not in the room, without a doubt. 

But something else was. Muffet blinked. She hadn’t noticed at first, but an ugly, small shape sat among the flowers, crumpling them. Had some piece of earth or rubbish fallen down through the hole above, and crushed Toriel’s beautiful flowerbed? Perhaps they should have fixed that gap, after all.

But no, it didn’t look quite like that. As a matter of fact, Muffet was having difficulty placing exactly what the thing was. As her adrenaline ebbed away, she took a fascinated step forward. She realised it was not a something – but a _someone._

Or so, at least, it appeared. Though Muffet recognised arms and legs (just two of each) it didn’t look like any monster she had seen before. She realised that the raggedy shapes it was covered in were simply filthy clothes. It lacked any kind of shell, fur, or feather, having only soft looking skin instead. It didn’t even have claws.

Then something clicked in her head. She had seen something of this exact shape before, illustrated in books and tapestries. This wasn’t a monster – this was a _human._

 _It’s rather small,_ she thought. Not nearly as impressive as she had expected. This was one of the fierce beings of which the legends spoke?

It occurred to Muffet that the thing might already be dead. It was battered and bleeding, and didn’t seem to be moving. Muffet looked upwards. As she had thought, it was directly beneath the hole in the ceiling, and was surrounded by broken pieces of the tree roots that snaked through the walls. They must have helped to break its fall.

“Look at you,” she said. “You’ve gone and ruined her flowers.” She took another step towards the creature, who suddenly stirred. It shook, and let out a pitiful cough.

A dead human was one thing, but a suffering creature was another, human or not. Muffet knew Toriel would never forgive her if she let the human die. She closed the cap between them and ran a critical eye over its – their – injuries.

The human was in a sorry state. They could do little more than wail weakly and twitch. A hint of bone poked from out of their leg. Their pale blue dress was soaked in blood. But they were alive.

“Be a dear and try not to move,” said Muffet, kneeling. “You’ve had quite the fall.” 

The human stopped moaning for a moment and managed to cough out a single word. “Who…”

“Call me Muffet, dearie,” said Muffet. “May I?” without waiting for an answer, she began tearing the human’s dress into strips to unstick it from their wounds. She supposed that they could hardly mind.

The human watched her work with vacant eyes, and attempted to speak again. “…Real?”

“Who? Me?” Muffet gave them a startled look, then laughed. “Very much so. I’d warn you that this is going to hurt, but something tells me you won’t mind.” Muffet knew that she was talking so much to try and keep the human focused, keep them conscious. “What’s your name, dearie?”

The human’s lips moved uselessly, muttering something inaudible. Their eyelids fluttered shut.

“I fear I didn’t quite make that out,” said Muffet, beginning to try and set the bone roughly back in place. Toriel would be able to do a better job later. “Please, what’s your name?”

The human’s eyes opened a crack. “Gini,” they said in a hoarse whisper. “That’s my name.” Their head drooped onto their shoulder.

“What a nice name,” said Muffet. “Does it mean anything?” When she received no response, she looked up from her work, and saw Gini’s unmoving face. “I wouldn’t fall asleep, if I were you. Please don’t fall asleep. Gini? Can you hear me? The least you could do is stay awake for me. My dress is ruined for certain. Gini?” 

Gini’s eyes were closed, and their chest was barely rising and falling. Muffet placed her hands on their injuries and thought a simple wordless prayer of healing. She was nowhere near as talented in the healing arts as Toriel, but she could close a wound. Or so she hoped. She hadn’t practised in a long time.

Muffet knelt in the dirt with her hands buried in blood for what could have been minutes or hours. She realised that even worse than the ghastly sight of human blood was the smell. She wondered how they could stand it.

When Muffet was satisfied that she had done all she could do, Gini had stopped bleeding. They seemed to be breathing a little more regularly, though those breaths were still frightfully shallow.

“I’m going to pick you up,” she told the unconscious human. “With a little luck, Toriel will be home.”


	11. Chapter 11

Muffet awkwardly cradled Gini in her arms. She spent a moment figuring out how to support both their head and their wounded leg, and settled for resting their head against her shoulder while letting one of their arms dangle loosely. It occurred to her that this was quite possibly exactly how she herself had been held by Toriel the night before, and she told herself to concentrate.

Once she was pleased with her arrangement, she rose from her knees, staggering a little. Gini wasn’t very heavy, but they were nearly as tall as she was, and she lost her balance. She noticed something slip from the sleeve of their free arm and fall into the dirt, and was tempted to stop and see what it was, but knew she had already wasted too much time. She set off, doing her best to hurry without bumping the sleeping human in her arms.

Muffet listened to the sounds of Gini’s breathing as she walked, as a means of reassurance, though she needed to strain her ears. As she made twists and turns through the stone corridors she had grown to know so well, and the scenery turned from earthy greys and browns to drab purple, her thoughts turned again to Toriel. Before taking Gini home, she would check by her cottage to see if she had come back – it was more or less on the way. And she had to admit that Gini’s injuries would do much better under Toriel’s healing magic than stitches of spider silk, for as much faith as she had in her spiders, they had never operated on a human before.

She remembered why she had gone looking for Toriel in the first place. It seemed like hours ago that she had decided to tell her that she loved her. It had felt like an all-consuming need at the time, but she had something else to think about now. She was afraid that she had lost her courage now that the moment had passed. 

So lost in thought was Muffet that she almost didn’t notice when Toriel found them first. She had been treading carefully, keeping her eyes on the ground and on Gini, when she heard a familiar voice.

She looked up in time to see Toriel’s eyes widen – first in confusion, and then…

She swayed, and shopping bags she held in each hand fell to the ground with a crash. Muffet realised what a frightful sight she must have been. If she hadn’t been carrying Gini, she would have rushed forward to steady her. Toriel looked ready to faint.

But she didn’t. She walked towards her without a word and, impossibly gently, took Gini into her arms. Held by Toriel, they looked so fragile – a tiny, dirty creature enveloped by purple silk and spotless white fur.

Toriel knelt and passed a hand over Gini’s head, and over their heart. She closed her eyes and began to murmur something Muffet couldn’t understand, who stood uselessly aside, wishing there was something she could do.

A few minutes went in the same way, with the silence only broken by Toriel’s whispered spells, and the shuffling about of monsters who couldn’t help but watch the spectacle – at a polite distance, of course. Eventually, after some colour had returned to Gini’s cheeks, and their breathing was a little deeper, Toriel finally spoke.

“They will live,” she said, and stood. She walked past Muffet without sparing her so much as a glance, gazing at Gini all the while.

Muffet blinked. She had expected something more.

She didn’t move, wondering what to do. Should she follow her? It seemed as though Toriel might have wanted to be alone. After a moment, though, she went after her at a few steps behind, pausing to pick up the forgotten shopping, feeling a little hurt. 

The two of them walked in silence. As she watched Toriel’s back, Muffet wondered what she might be thinking. It hadn’t yet been two years since her adopted child had passed away from illness. Toriel surely still missed them greatly, so how what could she be feeling now that another human had fallen down, in just the same way as Chara had?

Muffet wished that she would acknowledge her, would say anything to her, and felt all the guiltier for it. How spoiled must she have been, to be making this about her! She couldn’t possibly understand how it felt to be in Toriel’s place.

After they had arrived at Toriel’s house, and Toriel had disappeared inside, Muffet dithered helplessly on the front porch. _Should I just leave her alone?_ She would feel terribly silly, to simply walk off after accompanying Toriel to her doorstep…

“Why are you waiting outside?” came Toriel’s voice. “Is something wrong?”

Slightly comforted, Muffet stepped inside after a courteous attempt at brushing the filth off of her stockings. She left the paper bags full of shopping on the floor and went to quickly scrub her hands free of grime as best she could before looking for Toriel.

She found her in the leftmost spare room of the house, sitting on a chair beside where a sleeping Gini lay dressed in clean nightwear and tucked into bed.

“I did not know you could heal.”

Muffet tilted her head. “Pardon?”

“The human’s wounds were shut, even before I arrived. They were not bleeding. That was your doing, was it not?”

“I did what I could.”

“You did well.”

It seemed a peculiar time to be accepting praise, so Muffet said nothing.

“I have splinted their leg,” continued Toriel. “Had I immediately healed it outright, they might have never been able to walk again. Improperly mended bones are the most difficult injury to reverse.”

Muffet knew this, of course, and didn’t know if she ought to respond. She wasn’t sure that Toriel was still talking to her.

“I hoped this would never happen again,” said Toriel, her voice barely a whisper. “I truly did.” 

There was nothing for Muffet to say. She found a chair and sat down, pulling it close. After a long pause, Toriel spoke again, never taking her eyes off Gini. 

“Not once have I ever regretted the day that Chara came down to us,” she said. “Though I wondered about the family they must have left behind, and about the people who might miss them, I loved them with all my heart. But after what happened to them and Asriel, I… I thought…” At last, she turned to face Muffet with weary eyes. “I never wanted to endure that heartache again.”

Muffet met her gaze, and touched her on the shoulder. After a little while longer, she felt as though it was time to speak.

“They were awake when I found them,” she said. “They told me their name is Gini.”

“Gini,” repeated Toriel softly. “If you had not found them when you did… I do not think there would have been anything that I could have done.”

“I already feared the worst. I feared that what I had done wasn’t enough.”

“It appears that you found them just in time to save their life… Muffet, not that I am ungrateful, but what were you doing at my flowerbed?”

“I – I was looking for you,” said Muffet. She panicked. “There was something I wanted to tell you.”

“Is that so? What is it?”

“I’m – afraid that I’ve forgotten.” 

Toriel laughed quietly. “Well, in that case, you may tell me when you remember.”

“I’ll be sure to.” Muffet turned away, hoping Toriel wouldn’t be able to see the shame in her face. _Coward!_

They sat silently after that. Toriel never suggested that she leave.

***

In spite of herself, Muffet had just started to doze off when Gini finally awoke.

They did not demand to know where they were, as she might have expected them to, nor did their eyes fly wildly around the room in fright. Instead, they simply stared dully at the ceiling.

“Are you in pain, little one?” asked Toriel.

Gini didn’t respond at all. It was as though they hadn’t heard a thing. 

“Gini?”

That got their attention. They glanced at Toriel.

“Yeah,” they said. A small and scratchy voice.

“I am sorry,” said Toriel. “Now that you are awake, I can give you some medicine to lessen the pain.”

“I don’t want it.” 

“Little one, are you certain?”

Gini didn’t answer straight away. They looked back at the ceiling. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” they said. “So what’s the point.”

“Why do you say that, my child?” asked Toriel, her brow creased.

“I slipped over,” said Gini. “I fell down a massive hole.”

“But you did not die,” said Toriel. “You were saved.”

“Then how do you know my name?” insisted Gini. “You couldn’t know that if you were real.”

Toriel gave Muffet a helpless look, who chose that moment to step in. “You told me your name yourself, before you passed out,” she said. “I’m the one who found you.”

Gini stared as though they had just noticed she was there. They propped themselves up on one elbow to face her.

“I remember you,” they said. “You were talking to me before.”

Muffet nodded. “I patched you up, and took you to Toriel. She’s the one who saved your life, dearie. We’re just as real as you are.”

Gini looked between Muffet and Toriel, realisation dawning on their face.

“Then… it’s true?” they said, almost to themselves. “There really are monsters under the mountain?”

“Quite,” said Toriel. Muffet giggled.

“What’s so funny?” asked Gini with a glare. Suddenly, their eyes widened in horror. They patted down on the nightgown Toriel had put them in as though searching for their pockets, then frantically looked around the room for something. “Where is it?”

“Where is what, Gini? What is wrong?”

“My knife! Where did you put it?”

“My child, you had nothing on you when I found you.” At that, Gini looked ready to leap out from the blankets. Toriel gently but firmly put her hands on their shoulders.

“You cannot possibly get out of that bed yet. I am sorry, but please do not think about it for now.”

“Let me go! I need to find it, it’s important!”

Muffet frowned. She remembered the object that had fallen from Gini’s dress when she had picked them up – and then realised something else.

“I believe I know where it might be,” said Muffet. Gini stopped fighting with Toriel, and both turned to look at her. “I’ll fetch it for you. I appear to have misplaced something of my own, too. Don’t fret, I shan’t be an hour.”

***

Muffet retraced her steps to the garden and crouched among the flowers, searching for what she thought she'd seen Gini drop. Her suspicions were proven correct. A toy knife lay hidden beneath the petals, wooden and broad-edged. Its paint was chipped and cracked in places, but a vibrant red ribbon was wound around the handle.

“There you are,” murmured Muffet. She tucked the toy knife under her arm, but didn’t rise from her place. “And there _you_ are.” She picked up her diary, which had sat forgotten by the flowerbed, and carefully brushed it free of dirt. She had taken it with her when she had gone running to find Toriel, she remembered, perhaps to read from in case her words failed her. In the excitement of finding Gini, she had left it behind.

Just when was she planning on telling her?

Later, she thought. There were more important things to worry about now. She carried both items back to Toriel’s, wondering how to explain the diary.

***

Gini craned their neck to see what Muffet was carrying as soon as they heard her approach their bed, and held out their hands wordlessly. Muffet was tempted to ask them to say ‘please’ first, but one look at their face told her that that wouldn’t go very well. 

“This is my brother’s,” they said importantly, once the wooden knife was in their hands. “And papa gave me the ribbon.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Muffet, trying not to sound chiding as she was with young spiders who had forgotten their manners.

“Thank you, Muffet,” said Toriel. “Gini was afraid that they had lost it forever. Is that your diary you have there? Is that what you had left behind?” 

“What, this?” Muffet looked foolishly at the book in her hands. “Why, yes, it is. I found it.”

Toriel gave her a smile, and watched Gini inspect their toy knife for damage. Muffet silently thanked her mother’s ghost that she hadn’t been asked to explain why she had been carrying her diary around.

“Anyway,” said Gini. “When can I go? I have to get home.”

The mood that had just begun to feel light-hearted instantly grew sombre. Muffet looked at Toriel, and knew that she had been dreading such a question.

“My child,” said Toriel, choosing her words cautiously, “I will not ask what you were doing on Mount Ebott, but the fact remains that you have had a tremendous fall. You have sustained many injuries. I am afraid I cannot let you leave.”

“What? But I feel fine!” Gini tried to rise, and immediately winced. They allowed Toriel to guide them back to their pillow. 

“Your leg has been broken, Gini,” said Toriel. “I am doing the best that I can with my magic, but you will not be able to stand for many days, let alone walk.”

“My brother gave me his toy knife to play with,” said Gini, frowning. “But he said I could only have it for a couple of days, so I have to give it back. How long until I’m better?”

“I should say you will be able to walk again in two weeks. But that does not mean you will be well enough to travel a long distance. I would rather keep you here for two months, until you are fully healed. Perhaps more. That way, I will know you are safe.”

Disbelief flooded Gini’s face. They folded their arms obstinately.

“Please do listen to Toriel, sweeting,” said Muffet. “She knows best, truly. We only don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Gini seemed ready to start a fight. They waited to see if Muffet or Toriel were joking. But when nobody spoke, they deflated, and the energy faded from their expression.

“Papa is going to be worried sick,” they said in a small voice. “I can really go home in a few weeks?”

“Of course, child.” Toriel smiled reassuringly. But to Muffet, she looked as though her heart might break.

They both knew that Gini would never be able to leave the Underground. Gini would never see their family again. Toriel hadn’t been able to say it. Neither of them had. How could they?

Gini squinted suspiciously at their solemn faces for a moment. Were they figuring out they were being lied to?

A change of subject came just in time, and in the form of a rumble coming from Gini’s stomach.

“Oh!” said Toriel, trying to hide her relief. “Would you like something to eat, my child?”

“It’s okay,” said Gini, looking embarrassed. “I’m not that hungry.”

“That may be,” said Toriel, “but it is be best for you to keep up your strength. I will fix you something.” She rose purposefully from her chair and bustled to the kitchen.

Now that the two of them were alone, Muffet didn’t know what to talk about.

“Has Toriel told you where you are?” she asked after a while.

“This is her house,” said Gini. “You found me, then brought me here.” They thought for a moment. “The last thing I remember was falling down a hole, and I was so scared… then I saw you. I really thought I was dead, or seeing things.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not,” smiled Muffet. “Why did you think you were imagining us? Have you not heard of monsters?”

Gini made a face. “Everybody knows about Mount Ebott,” they said. “But I thought papa and the elders just made up stories about monsters to make us do what we’re told. Papa keeps telling me that if I’m not in bed when the sun’s down, monsters will come and turn me into stew.”

Muffet couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You don’t need to worry,” she giggled. “We certainly don’t eat humans. Well, Toriel doesn’t. I’d like to try.”

Gini said nothing, and Muffet realised they were staring at her dainty fangs. She turned her laughter into a cough for an excuse to cover them up with her hand. Perhaps her joke hadn’t worked quite as she'd hoped it would.

A couple of awkward minutes passed. Gini seemed to be studying her from the corner of their eye, and Muffet decided to let them do so in silence, and pretended not to notice. They seemed as though they were planning on asking something, and Muffet readied herself.

“Are you… a spider?” they eventually asked.

Whatever Muffet might have been expecting, that was certainly not it.

“Why, I am,” she said. “Though I’m also a monster just like Toriel. Why do you ask?”

“I hate spiders.”

Muffet opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Oh,” she said.

Toriel swept into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl and some slices of bread. Muffet had never been so relieved to see her. 

“I have heated you up some soup,” said Toriel, setting it in front of Gini, who examined it doubtfully. They looked to Toriel, as if uncertain that it was really for them. “I do hope you’ll eat something,” she gently added.

Either that convinced them, or Gini couldn’t resist the wonderful smell that filled the room. They picked up the spoon and started to eat – slowly at first, politely. But after a few mouthfuls, their eyes widened, and they moved faster and faster, eating bread with their other hand and almost spilling the soup. 

“Not too quickly!” said Toriel. “You’ll get a stomach ache.” But her heart wasn’t in it. Gini polished off the bowl, mopping up the last bit of soup with the last piece of bread, and Toriel was pleased.

“That was so good,” said Gini. “We don’t get anything that nice at home.”

Toriel laughed. “I am glad you enjoyed it,” she said. “I have some pie in the fridge that you may have tomorrow, if you are feeling well enough.”

“Pie?” Gini immediately sat up straighter. “I’m well enough now!”

Toriel tried to protest that it would be far too rich, and that Gini ought to stick to softer stuff until they were a bit better, but they were unwavering. Muffet knew that Toriel was happy. 

“It is cold, I am afraid,” she said, but Gini didn’t seem to mind. The slice she fetched was thinner than what she’d ordinarily serve, but they didn’t seem to mind that either, and they devoured it in a heartbeat. They sank bank into their pillow, eyes closed in ecstasy.

“I’ve only had pie once,” they said. “And it wasn’t as good as this.”

“Thank you,” said Toriel. “Now, will you please take some medicine? It is best to do so after a meal.”

Gini made a face. Evidently, they didn’t like medicine. But they were also determined to get better. They nodded, and let Toriel feed them two teaspoons of thick, sticky potion – one green, and the other clear. Soon, they were yawning, and blinking drowsily. Toriel told them that they needed rest.

“I’m not tired,” they mumbled. They started to say something about being allowed some more pie the next day, and were already snoring gently. Toriel’s eyes sparkled. Quietly, carefully, she gathered the plate and cutlery up from the bed, and backed out of the room. 

Muffet followed her, and found her standing still in middle of the kitchen, still holding Gini’s tray.

“Toriel?” 

Toriel’s hands shook, and the tray rattled. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

Darting forward, Muffet took the tray from her hands and set it aside. Toriel sank to the floor.

“If they leave this place, they… they will have no chance,” she choked. “They will die. What can I do? Oh, Muffet, what can I do?”

Muffet joined her and took her in her arms. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.” Toriel sobbed into her shoulder, and Muffet wept for both of them.


	12. Chapter 12

Muffet spent that night at Toriel’s, of course. She knew that Toriel wouldn’t have wanted to be left alone in the house with only Gini – and she didn’t much feel like going back home, herself. There was no reason to. Lovett was big enough to be catching her own meals, and her spiders had long since settled in, and didn’t need her guidance at all times. She wasn’t needed at home, but she thought Toriel would appreciate her being nearby.

Toriel had a room that she referred to only as the ‘spare room’ – until she stopped referring to it as anything at all, and Muffet stopped bringing it up it. The rare mentions of it from Toriel were always terse, and it was the only room in the house that Muffet hadn’t been inside. It so happened that since Gini was taking up the other spare bed, this would be were Muffet would sleep.

Both she and Toriel were tired – dreadfully tired. It was Muffet who suggested that they leave the kitchen and go to bed. They parted awkwardly – a whisper from Muffet that she’d be right there if Toriel needed her, and a hug that might have lingered a moment too long, or not long enough. Toriel didn’t see her to her room.

The spare room was almost identical to Toriel’s bedroom, right down to the bedside table. But to Muffet, it couldn’t have been more different. It was chilly and full of dust, and smelt, somehow, of stagnant unhappiness. Nothing seemed to have been touched in years. The bed looked so neatly made it might have been carved out of stone. A journal lay open on the table. A knitted sweater that had never been finished sat in a malformed mess on the dresser.

Muffet was taken aback. Not because this room had clearly once belonged to Toriel’s husband – she had long since guessed as much. But she was disturbed by how perfectly this room preserved Toriel’s old life. She had never known her to be a woman who’d try to hide her problems away, so why was she putting herself through this? How could she heal while so carefully keeping this fragment of the past undisturbed? Was it out of spite?

No wonder it felt so lonely in there.

She wondered if she was regretting her choice to stay the night. This sad little bedroom was hardly inviting, and she felt almost guilty for being there. But it was Toriel who suggested that she take the spare room. Muffet supposed that was a good sign. Perhaps she was moving on. A bed was no more than a bed, after all, no matter who had once slept on it.

She made to lie down, but changed her mind and sat in the chair instead. The room felt almost sacred, and she felt guilty for disturbing it. She imagined that it was watching her, waiting to see what she would do, but didn’t know if it was reproachfully waiting for her intrusion to end, or silently begging for her to stay.

***

After a somewhat cold and lonely night, Muffet awoke, feeling rather stiff. She had slept poorly.

She found Toriel drinking tea in the living room, and they exchanged a quiet glance. Without a word, she sat beside her, taking a moment to study her face. It appeared her night had been no less unhappy. Muffet wondered if she’d had any rest at all.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Toriel, after a deliberate silence. Her voice was hoarse.

“Well enough,” said Muffet, and immediately regretted how obvious a lie it was.

Toriel gave a wan, but well humoured, smile.

“I dreamt badly,” she said.

Under normal circumstances, Muffet might have asked about just who or what Toriel had found within those dreams. She usually found that talking about her nightmares in the morning helped. But, she didn’t need to ask to know that they had been no ordinary bad dream.

“Gini is still sleeping, I imagine?” she asked instead.

“They are fast asleep. During the night, I went to check on them, several times. I… but they seem in good condition.”

“Thank goodness,” said Muffet. She remembered something that she had been meaning to ask. “You didn’t truly mean it when you said they would be healed within a few months, did you? Even with your abilities, I had to wonder…”

Toriel sighed.

“I was afraid Gini would have refused to cooperate at all, had I been more honest,” she said. “With their injuries, they may have difficulty walking for half a year, perhaps more. And even then, their muscles will be atrophied, and their leg greatly weakened. I had a moment of weakness… I do not like to lie.”

“It’s in their best interests to remain here, for as long as possible. Even if they don’t know the full reason why.”

“I believe so, too. But, we cannot simply lie to them forever… and we cannot force them to stay for longer than they wish to. I fear our only choice is to tell them the truth, one day, of why they – why they must never leave. But how does one tell a child such a terrible thing? They think that within weeks, they will see their brother and father again. Tell me, do you think I did the right thing? To give them this false hope? Have I only made it more painful in the end?”

“They would never have believed you, not in a thousand years. Children think the world is so small. How could they have reacted, had we told them that someone they’ve never met wants their life, and… their soul? And how could they have trusted us after that? This was the only way.”

“I pray you are right. The best we can do is to think of a way to tell them the truth. They may hate us after that, but it is better than the alternative.”

Muffet nodded. “I suppose it all just depends on their patience, doesn’t it?”

Toriel opened her mouth to reply, and a shrill scream rang through the house.

They exchanged a horrified look for barely a moment, and Toriel was already out of her chair, blurring across the room. Muffet stumbled after her. They burst into Gini’s room, and found them shrinking against the head of the bed, with their blanket drawn up to their eyes. Crawling all over the bed and down the walls were dozens of spiders.

It didn’t take long for Muffet to figure out exactly what had happened. Her spiders must have been wondering where she had been all night. They had guessed she was at Toriel’s, and had come to investigate. Unfortunately, it seemed they had picked the wrong room to go snooping into.

“Get them away from me!” they shrieked.

Muffet was confused. What was the matter?

Luckily for Gini, Toriel wasn’t nearly as slow to catch on.

“Shoo, all of you!” she said, sweeping her arms. “You are not permitted to enter this room, not under any circumstances. Is that clear?”

The spiders scattered at once. Toriel was rarely so firm with them. Some looked helplessly to Muffet.

“You heard her, dears,” she said, and looked helplessly back. Shamefaced, the spiders scuttled away, leaving the three of them alone.

So Gini had only been surprised. Muffet was glad that it had been a bit of a false alarm, but her heart was still pounding. Toriel was breathing a little heavily, her hand on her chest.

“You may come out,” she said to Gini, who was still hiding underneath the blanket. “They have gone.”

Gini emerged, glaring at Muffet.

Muffet was no stranger to rude stares, particularly from younger monsters. She rarely found herself terribly bothered by them. But under Toriel’s own roof, she simply couldn’t help being a little offended.

“What’s that look for?” she asked. “I didn’t bring them here just to bother you, you know. They may do as they please. Or were you thinking that you’d like me to leave, too?”

Gini considered the question for a concerningly long time.

“You don’t really look like a spider, so it’s fine,” they said.

Muffet didn’t know what to make of that. Gini looked a bit guilty.

“It’s not just a spider thing, really,” they added. “I kind of just hate all bugs.”

Muffet would have quite liked to tell Gini that _spiders are not bugs thank you very much,_ but decided to leave it alone. They had just attempted to make peace, after all. Probably. She wasn’t really sure. Regardless, she resolved to correct them about it later.

“Well, I must apologise for the little horrors, then,” she said. “They’re a villainously curious bunch. Although, I promise you that they were more frightened of you than you were of them.” _Much more._ She tried to imagine being so startled at waking up to a roomful of unfamiliar spiders, and failed.

Gini frowned. 

“Everyone always says that about scary things.”

“In any event,” said Toriel, before Muffet could respond. “I am certain that you will not need to worry about any more spiders coming into your room, Gini. However, when you are well enough to move around the house, I am afraid you will need to get used to the sight of them. As Muffet said, they come and go quite often, and are a common sight in the ruins. Do you think you can do that?”

Gini seemed to resist the urge to give Muffet another glare.

“I guess,” they said.

_An honour,_ thought Muffet.

“That is wonderful,” said Toriel. “Well, now we are all awake, and everything has… settled, Muffet and I shall prepare breakfast. Shall omelette suffice?”

Of course Gini answered with a resounding ‘yes’, though Muffet couldn’t help but note the lack of a ‘please’.

“Our guest doesn’t like spiders,” she said mournfully to Toriel once they were in the kitchen. “They hated them all, when they hadn’t got to know a single one of them! Can you imagine?”

“It is unfortunate,” said Toriel. “Humans can be odd like this, sometimes… but I am certain that you will win them over.”

Muffet hummed doubtfully, trying to remember things she’d learned about humans from the old tales her mother had told her.

“Poppet once told me that some humans like to step on spiders when they see them,” she said, “and do all sorts of other horrible things. Though that might have just been something she said to all the little spiderlings to stop them from exploring too far above the ground.”

“I do not believe that Gini would do something so barbaric. They are only a child, after all.” 

“All the same, I suppose I should be grateful that I ‘don’t look like a spider’. Really! What do you think they meant by that?”

Toriel laughed as she shelled a couple of snails.

“Only that they have never seen a monster before! I must look just as strange to them, do you not think? Please, try not to take it to heart.”

Muffet realised that she had been doing just that. Why should she let the clumsy words of a child rankle her so? Toriel seemed more amused by her reactions than anything, but Muffet was embarrassed at herself. She made up her mind not to dwell on it any longer.

***

Gini gave their plate of omelette some suspicious prods with their fork, taking a few experimental mouthfuls after much hesitation. They looked like a different person to the ravenous creature from the night before.

“What’s this grey stuff?”

“Spiders,” said Muffet.

Gini gave a choked yelp, coughing on their eggs.

“Muffet!” scolded Toriel. “Do not tease them. I am looking after one child, not two!”

Toriel and Muffet were having their breakfast in Gini’s room, too, to be companionable. Toriel was in her usual chair, while Muffet sat cross-legged on the floor, with her plate on her lap. She grinned, and Gini gave her a ferocious frown.

“She was joking?” they asked.

“Of course,” said Toriel. “You did not think we would feed you spiders, did you?”

“Well… never mind. So what are they, anyway? These little grey things.”

“They’re snails,” said Muffet.

Gini nearly choked again. They stared indignantly at Toriel.

“Tell her to stop joking!”

This time it was Muffet who spluttered. She buried her face in her plate to hide her laughter. Toriel looked lost for words.

“Child,” she said, slowly. “Do you not eat snails?”

Gini scowled.

“Of course not,” they said. “Don’t be gross.”

“Do you mean to say… that you have never eaten a snail before?”

“Why are you talking about snails, too?” cried Gini. “I want to know what these grey things are.”

Muffet watched Toriel in fascination. It wasn’t often that she saw her blush.

Gini turned from Toriel to Muffet, and back again, growing redder and redder.

“Muffet,” said Toriel. “Help.”

“I think we ought to stick to toast for breakfast,” said Muffet.

***

Muffet took her leave a short while after. It was a bit crowded with the three of them in Gini’s little room, and Toriel seemed to much more composed than from the night before. She would be fine without her. All the same, Muffet assured her that she’d be close by, and would be back to check on her soon.

But those weren’t Muffet’s real reasons for wanting to leave. It was becoming clear that while the child didn’t quite have anything against her, Gini just didn’t like her very much. When they weren’t pointedly ignoring her, they were unable to stop giving sideways stares. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

_I don’t think I’m much good with children,_ thought Muffet.

She didn’t know what she’d done wrong. Was her appearance really just that disturbing?

It was just as well that Gini seemed to trust Toriel quite a bit more, or they might not have cooperated at all. That did sting, just a little bit, but it only made sense. Toriel was more gentle, more patient, and simply far better cut out for this sort of thing than Muffet.

She hadn’t said any of this to her, of course. Once she had found a moment alone with her, she had only said that perhaps it was time she ought to go and have a talk with her spiders about all this. That much wasn’t a lie – she certainly felt she owed them an explanation. Toriel didn’t seem to pick up on her discomfort, for which Muffet felt rather petty for being grateful. 

And, of course, she hadn’t even told her what she’d set out to in the first place.

Muffet groaned. What a problematic child this Gini was becoming.

To top it all off, her spiders were cranky with her. Of course the ones at Toriel’s had been sure to tell the entire family about the ordeal with Gini. Muffet had expected that. None of them had seen a human before, after all. But she hadn’t considered that they might still be upset about their unjust banishment from Toriel’s house. From the way they had told it, it sounded as though Muffet had simply stood aside without even trying to defend them.

She had to admit that that was more or less exactly what had happened, but it wasn’t as though she’d had time to explain to them that Toriel had her reasons. That a human had plopped into the Underground from a hole in the ceiling was one thing – that this human simply hated spiders for no reason was another.

She spoke aloud, not in the silent spider speech, so that they could all hear her. They knew that whenever she spoke to them in the common tongue, they had better listen.

“Dears,” she said, with her spiders gathered in a wide circle around her, and Lovett lying on her lap. “I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, but a human has fallen into the Ruins. Their name is Gini. I’m afraid I can’t say much more than that, but Toriel is taking care of them at the moment. And that means that things will be changing a little around here. None of you are allowed to so much as peep inside Gini’s bedroom, or Toriel will be cross for certain. In fact, for a few weeks, perhaps it would be best to avoid Toriel’s house altogether, until the human has settled in a bit more. They – they are a little scared of us. Do you understand all that?”

None of the spiders were very happy with that. They hadn’t had to tiptoe around since they’d moved to the ruins.

_‘Why doesn’t the human like us?’_

_‘But why can’t we visit? Is Toriel angry with us?’_

_‘Have we done something wrong?’_

_I’m wondering the same thing,_ thought Muffet.

Her spiders looked at her curiously, and Muffet winced. She hadn’t realised she had thought that out loud.

“Listen,” she said. “Please don’t think this is your fault. But this human – and I am told this isn’t very unusual among humans – simply dislikes anything they consider an insect. Unfortunately, there’s not much to be discussed about it. None of you have done anything wrong. It isn’t fair, I know, but they’re only a child.”

_‘How long until they leave?’_

“Not long, I’m sure,” said Muffet.

***

True to her word, Muffet came to visit Toriel the very next day. Anxious to help in whatever small ways she could, and also simply to give herself something good to do, she baked a tray of brownies to bring with her. She hoped Gini would appreciate the effort. She had to adjust the recipe to avoid any spider-based products.

Lovett trotted out eagerly to follow her, and Muffet spent a moment wondering if Gini would consider her a bug. She decided not to take any chances.

“Not today, sweet one,” she said. “No more going to Toriel’s for a little while.”

She set off, and Lovett ran in a few confused little circles and whined.

Toriel was indeed grateful to see her. Muffet was surprised to see that she looked much better. Emotionally frail, to be certain – that much, Toriel couldn’t hide from her. But her back was straighter, and her eyes, though reddened, were unwavering. 

She smiled genuinely when she saw the brownies Muffet had brought.

“Oh! Good morning,” she said. “I was not sure when I could be expecting you, so I have not done any tidying up, I am afraid… “ 

“Don’t be silly,” said Muffet. “I can hardly think of anything that needed tidying. I was here only yesterday, if you do recall.” 

Even with the chaos of Gini showing up, Muffet thought the place was still preposterously organised. Toriel did have very high standards when it came to cleanliness.

“Yes, you were… I am a little absent-minded today. Please, come in. But where is little Lovett?”

“She is staying at home. I thought that would be best for now, given Gini’s… disposition.”

“Ah.” Toriel looked a bit embarrassed. “That was good thinking.”

Once inside, Muffet went to say hello to Gini, and found them looking apprehensively at the door. Oddly, though, they looked almost relieved to see her.

“Oh, it’s you,” they said. “Hi, Muffet.”

“Good morning, dearie,” said Muffet, tilting her head slightly in puzzlement. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Not really, but… Toriel told me that there are other monsters here, and I’m kind of scared about meeting them.”

“I see. Well, you needn’t fret, it’s just little me paying a visit. Other monsters don’t stop by very often, so you’re quite safe.”

“Right.” They frowned.

Toriel swished into the room, carrying Muffet’s brownies served on a plate.

“Now, then!” she said. “Gini, would you like a brownie? Muffet has very kindly baked some for us.”

Gini seemed very interested in the smell, but hesitated.

“Muffet made them?”

“There aren’t any spiders in there,” said Muffet hastily, before Toriel could answer. “I left them out, especially for you. There are no snails, either.”

Gini leant back in their bed and looked away.

“I’m okay.”

“Suit yourself,” said Muffet. She sighed. She’d really messed up, hadn’t she?

Toriel gave each of them a quizzical look.

***

Muffet was beginning to think that she’d missed her chance.

It was only becoming more difficult to get a moment alone with Toriel, and when she did, it never felt like the right time. 

At first, it was out of concern. Toriel was putting up a brave face, but she was worn down, and Muffet didn’t want to take advantage of her fragility. Spilling her feelings on her would be the most selfish thing she could do right now.

But then, something unexpected started to happen.

Muffet continued to visit the two of them almost daily. She cooked more than ever, trying to take a little of Toriel’s burden away. But it seemed her worry was for nothing. Toriel was looking radiant, and only growing livelier by the day.

It didn’t make much sense to Muffet, and she thought she might have been imagining it, but it seemed that simply being around Gini was boosting Toriel’s spirits. She was brighter than Muffet could remember seeing her, even before Gini fell down. If Muffet was being honest, it was unsettling. The wretched night they’d shared on the kitchen floor those days ago might as well have been a bad dream. Muffet was glad that she was happy, but where did it leave her? Did Gini fill a gap in Toriel’s life that Muffet wasn’t enough for?

Now she was being jealous of a sick child, of all things. She knew none of this was their fault, but how her throat ached when Toriel hummed around them. Muffet wasn’t even sure if she was needed any longer.

It seemed humans were hardy creatures indeed. Liveliness soon returned to Gini, and they became more of the child they’d been before the fall. It also meant, however, that they quickly grew restless. They weren’t happy with being bedbound for so long, and Toriel couldn’t always be there to keep them entertained. 

When it had been seven days since they’d fallen, they asked again when they could leave.

“It’s been a week,” they announced to Toriel and Muffet. “I’ve been counting. You said I’d be okay after two.”

Muffet gave Toriel a worried look. She’d been hoping they’d have forgotten about that.

“That is not quite what I said,” said Toriel. “I said you should be able to walk short distances in two weeks. You will not be able to travel for a while yet.”

Gini flopped into their pillow with their eyes shut.

“One of my neighbours broke his leg,” they said. “He fell off a wagon that was going down a hill. They had to force it straight again. That was years ago, and he still can’t walk. They told me they should have just cut it off.”

It was clear what was on Gini’s mind.

“We are certainly not going to need to cut anything off,” said Toriel. “Humans are unskilled at healing. If you stay with me, you will be mended right up. It is only a question of how long it will take.”

“Another week?”

Toriel laughed. She sounded a little nervous.

“We will see,” she said.

***

The next morning, Toriel informed Muffet that she would be out of the ruins for most of the day, and needed her to look after Gini for her. She had groceries to collect, and a friend that she wanted to see. It was quite a trip. And Muffet knew she hadn’t been to see her flowerbed since Gini had arrived, so she’d surely want to spend some time there, too. Muffet agreed in a heartbeat, though of course she wasn’t delighted at the idea. 

“There is food in the fridge,” said Toriel, standing in the doorway. “And Gini’s medicine for the pain is on the kitchen bench. I left instructions on how much they should take.”

She had said all of that many times already. 

“It’ll only be them and me for just a few hours,” said Muffet patiently. “We’re not going to kill each other, or burn the house down.”

“I know. Thank you for this, Muffet. Gini likes you, truly. You will see. Give them some time. They will appreciate the company. Oh, I do hope they don’t mind me leaving. Perhaps I should say goodbye again…”

Muffet pushed her out the door.

“Go, I say!” she said. “The sooner you get your errands done, the sooner you’ll be back.”

Then Muffet was alone in the house with Gini.

She crept apprehensively down the hallway towards their room. _I am not afraid of this child,_ she thought. _They don’t hate you. They need company._

Gini was already glaring at the door when it creaked open. They had their arms folded, and their brother’s toy knife was in their lap.

“Hello there, dear,” said Muffet jovially. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Muffet sat in the chair beside the bed, and dragged it a little further away.

“Splendid,” she said. “Now, I know you miss Toriel. But as I’m sure she told you, she has lots of things she needs to do today, and I’ll be watching over you instead. So why don’t we be nice to each other?”

“I don’t need to be watched.”

“Well, I’m going to do it anyway.”

Gini turned to examine the wall. 

This wasn’t going terribly well, even for Muffet’s hopes. Clearly, they minded her presence a lot more when Toriel wasn’t around. That was good to know. She had been hoping for at least a little bit of conversation. Anything to help her get to know them better. But Gini didn’t seem so interested in being friends.

“Are you hungry, Gini?”

“Not really.”

“Then, is there something else you’d like me to get for you?”

“I want something to read.”

Muffet liked that idea.

“Of course,” she said. “Let me see what Toriel has around here.”

Toriel, as it turned out after several minutes of frantic searching, didn’t have much that Muffet thought Gini would like. There were mainly encyclopaedias, history books, and more dictionaries than anyone could ever need. She settled on a book full of jokes about snails. It was far from ideal, but was the most fun-looking one she could find, and seemed suitable for a child. At the very least, it had pictures.

Gini was unimpressed.

“I don’t like snails,” they immediately said.

“Would you prefer ‘Encyclopaedia of Subterranean Insects’?”

Without another word, Gini opened the book and started to read, frowning in concentration. Or perhaps they were just frowning.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“No thanks.”

“Would you like to be left alone?”

Gini nodded. It seemed they were done even talking to her.

“I’ll just be down the hall, so call me if you need something,” said Muffet. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” 

She left Gini’s door ajar and plonked herself in front of the dining table, her face buried in her hands.

“Doesn’t like snails,” she grumbled. “Doesn’t like spiders. What _do_ you like, Gini?”

She wished she had thought to bring Lovett with her this time. Though it would have been a disaster if she had bolted into Gini’s room, she could have used some more companionship. 

Toriel, bless her, had said that they liked her. Muffet supposed that she still might have been right. She must have known Gini better than she did by now. It didn’t seem likely, but was a bit encouraging, all the same. Maybe all human children were like this. Toriel was experienced in this sort of thing.

Thinking of Toriel, she wondered where she had gone. She had no idea what friend she might be visiting, and she hadn’t thought to ask. There was quite a bit she didn’t know about her, really. How did she walk about outside the ruins and do her shopping without drawing attention? She’d never thought about it before. She hunted around for something for herself to read, and curled up in Toriel’s big armchair with a book on gardening.

She hadn’t been there long when she heard something strange. It was Gini. They were crying.

She spent just a moment listening in surprise before padding silently back to their room.

“Gini?” she asked, poking her head inside. “What’s wrong?”

Gini was curled facing away from the door. They were shaking beneath the blankets, and had their face hidden in their pillow.

“Leg hurts,” they said. “It really hurts.”

“I’ll get you your medicine.”

“I don’t want it. It makes me feel sick.”

“It will help you get to sleep…”

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to go home.”

Muffet was at a complete loss. She sat awkwardly on the edge of Gini’s bed, and wondered what Toriel would do in this situation. She hesitantly tried to touch Gini on the shoulder, and they recoiled.

“I wish I didn’t climb the mountain,” sobbed Gini. “I want my papa and my brother. They might think I’m dead.”

“Don’t say that,” said Muffet. “They do not. You’ll see them soon.”

“No, I won’t.” Gini took a deep, shuddering breath. “Toriel lied, didn’t – didn’t she? I won’t be okay to leave in just a few weeks.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I saw you two talking. I heard you. You were being quiet. I knew what you were talking about. And you always – you always look scared when I ask when I can go.” 

Now Muffet was truly afraid of doing the wrong thing. She thought extremely carefully. Gini would know if she tried to lie again, and she and Toriel needed Gini to trust them.

“You’re right, Gini,” she said. “Toriel can’t heal your leg that quickly. We both lied to you, and we’re truly sorry. We did it to help you. You needed to rest, not worry.”

“When will I really be able to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop lying!”

Muffet froze. There really wasn’t any getting out of it this time.

“We’re really not certain,” she said. “But Toriel said to me that it might be six months before you’re strong enough to leave.” 

Gini sobbed even harder.

“I wish she was here,” they said.

“Me too,” said Muffet. She didn’t know what else to say. She thought about trying to touch them again, but did not.

“It hurts so much,” said Gini.

Muffet stood up.

“I’m bringing you your medicine,” she sad. Gini didn’t protest. She went to the kitchen and mixed Gini’s allotted measure of Toriel’s pain-numbing drink into a glass of water, and brought it back with her.

“You don’t need to drink the whole thing,” she said. “Just have as much as you can. You’re in pain because it wore off.”

She brought the glass to Gini’s lips, and Gini tilted their head forwards. They gulped down around half of the drink before turning away. She sat by them, and waited. Eventually, their sobs began to subside.

“I hate that stuff,” said Gini. “It makes me feel gross when I wake up.” 

“I know,” said Muffet. “Toriel can’t do everything. But it should help. Is the pain going down?”

“Yeah. A bit.” Gini sighed. Their breath sounded steadier.

“I’m very glad.” Muffet paused, and watched Gini’s face for a while. “Tell me, Gini, do you hate us now? For lying to you?”

Gini scrubbed their eyes, and hiccupped. 

“No,” they said. “I guess I know why you did it. But… that’s such a long time. I’m happy you saved me. But I don’t want to live here. I already miss them so much.”

“All we can ask is that you try to be strong, and be patient. And that’s all you can ask of yourself. It hurts, I know. I understand how hard it is to be away from your family.”

“Really?” 

“Sort of,” said Muffet. “Not too long ago, my mother passed away.” 

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, dearie.”

“My mama died, too,” said Gini blearily. Their eyes were fluttering shut. “When I was really small. I can’t remember it.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, too.”

Gini didn’t respond. They were frowning slightly in their sleep. Muffet fetched her book, but came back and read beside them, listening to them breathe.


End file.
